#morpheus x daunt

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden

Chapter 14 |

Chapter 15: Forget Me Not

TW: some awkwardness, confusing visions, Daniel makes an appearance, mentions of major character death and spoilers for the comics, a bit of Dark!Munin, The Fates, some intense memories and mentions of violence, pain, and allusions to assault, a bit of trickster god energy (I'm not super familiar with Puck and Loki from the comics, so please don't crucify me if they're not great!), threats, some cryptic shit from Destiny, a pretty big revelation, and finally, some soft fluffy goodness to give our story a happy end before the rewrite.

I really struggled with this last chapter! 😅 I think because I already know I'm going to rewrite it the words just didn't wanna cooperate with me and I'm overall not super thrilled with how it came out. I do really hope y'all still enjoy it and are looking forward to getting the rewrite whenever I have the time to get that going. Thank you all so much for your love, support and patience with this series!

Awkward felt like an inadequate word to describe the stiff silence that now consumed Hector's home. You quietly took a sip of your drink, eyes darting back and forth between the two men as they stared one another down across the living room. You’d quietly hoped that the two would use this time to let go of the strenuous circumstances they’d previously met under.

Hector finally leaned back and spoke, “Make any pregnant women cry today?”

Or not…

Dream’s face tensed slightly, but his voice was steady as he replied, “No.”

“You could’ve given us a minute to say a proper goodbye, you know,” Hector insisted with a sneer. “She had to go through so much all alone… we didn’t even get a chance to talk about baby names. I don’t… I don’t even know how they’re doing.”

This made Morpheus soften, and for a moment, you wondered if he was thinking about his own son, that had been long lost to him. “Daniel. Your son's name is Daniel, and he is doing well. I’ve had my raven check in with them on occasion.”

Your friend smiled and looked out toward the trees. “Daniel. What about Lyta?”

“She’s been more…” Morpheus chose his word carefully. “Restless as of late. A just reaction, I suppose, after learning all she has.”

“Couldn’t you help her with that?” Hector asked. “Isn’t that your job or something?”

“I could, but she does not wish for my help.”

“Sounds like her,” his smile was soft and sad but filled with a restfulness you’d not seen in him for a long while. “Lyta was always the stubborn one between us.”

Morpheus glanced at you, an invisible smirk plain to your eyes. “A struggle I understand too well, spirit.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me stubborn?”

“I said no such thing,” he insisted with a wicked gleam in his eyes that answered the question for him.

Turning your head away, you smiled at Hector. “Apologies for bringing up such painful memories. It was not my intent, my friend.”

He shook his head and waved your concern away. “It wasn’t so bad.”

Morpheus allowed the man to show him the home he’d built, taking in details he’d missed the first time in his haste, and, you thought, the two seemed less at odds with one another by the time you departed. Your beloved remained as long as he could, spending time with you to tell the children stories while you held Sirius and got lost in the sound of his silken voice. A loud screech and a string of curses echoed from the wood, bringing you and the Dream Lord to your feet, shielding as many ears as you could reach from the vile things being shouted.

The Corinthian stumbled out of the woods with Kat hot on his heels, talons bared and clawing at him with every swoop. Her feathers were ruffled, and the noises she made were ones you’d never heard before. “Kat!”

She heeded your voice, halting her attack on the nightmare to settle on a branch beside you. The Corinthian shook his clothes off, looking at the deep tear in his suit. “Your beast owes me a new suit!”

Kat’s eyes burned. “The only thing I owe you is a slow and painful death, nightmare.”

“What is the meaning of this?” You demanded as Morpheus distracted the children.

“Is this not the nightmare that betrayed you, my lady?”

“It is,” you answered honestly. “But he has been remade now. He will not hurt me again.”

“Once is more than enough,” She bit back. “This was something you knew once.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you tilted your head at her words. “What do you mean by this?”

Kat shook out her feathers. “Nothing, my lady. If you say the nightmare means no harm, then I shall trust you.”

“Thank you, Kat,” you answered, her words still rattling around your mind, but the golden owl took to the skies before you could question her further. 

The Corinthian bared his teeth at the shredded suit jacket. “Daunty, love the new realm and all, but you gotta get a tighter handle on your greeters.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head at him. “Relax. I’m sure your maker would happily repair your suit if you asked nicely.”

He scoffed. “I’d rather live with the tears.”

“Stubborn.”

“Always,” he replied with a grin. “So, you gonna give me the tour, or are you too busy for little nightmares now?”

Linking your arm with his, you smiled at Morpheus, who continued telling the children stories beside the fountain. “I always have time for you, dear Corinthian.”

*

It had been a few days since you’d spoken with Hector, but the sad look in his eyes when he’d mentioned not being able to see his son had stuck with you. You approached the young tree with a gentle touch and kind gaze upon the face carved into the trunk. Hector's son was still quite young, and his tree of memory reflected such. It was smaller than his mother's that stood beside it, but the roots were strong and ran far deeper than any mortal. Daniel, you quickly realized, was special. Different. Like you.

The face seemed to stare back at you, white leaves peeking out from beneath the lush green canopy. You approached slower, urging the roots to lift and open the young one's mind to you. His memories would be few, but there was no doubt much you could learn within them. Veins of white stood out in the darkness. Some roots, the ones that borrowed deeper, were pale and sung with power and immortality. The song of The Endless. But, the tune wasn't Dreams, or Deaths, or Desires. It was its own song, still unfinished.

You walked through the light, lush still forming along the walls of his memory, focusing on the memories he found joyful. You intended to share them with Hector, a gift to show your gratitude for his hard work and kindness. That, however, was not where the tree led you.

Stumbling into the blinking light, you found yourself kneeling in deep sand. Sand scratched your palms, sticking to you like sap, just as it had the first time. Except now that sand, once a deep void of black, was white. It sparked like tiny perfect crystals in your palms as you stood and looked out at the miles of glistening sand and bright cerulean waves.

You knew this beach better than any save its creator. You knew the placement of each stone and the feeling of the sand as it molded to your steps. This place felt different… All at once, the beach you knew and not. It was old and new and entirely confusing.

The fragile ground beneath your feet seemed to remember you as you walked toward where the Gates of Horn and Ivory should have been. The sand didn't swallow your feet or try to slow your steps. It felt as though you were walking on nothing at all. Before your eyes, the entrance stood, an entrance that was not the gates you knew at all.

Glossy white marble caught the light and cast an ethereal glow all around you. An aura of both light and color, beautiful and bright. The gates stood open, revealing a sight you'd grown to know well. "The Dreaming."

As you passed through, you admired the fine craftsmanship of the carvings in the marble gates. A story familiar and also not… Something that had not yet been told. Familiar things were more abundant here as you walked through the town and admired the dreamers. Dreams and Nightmares, old and new, greeted you like a friend and wished you good fortune as you made your way to the palace.

The regal and beautiful palace of The Dream Lord was quite similar to the one you’d known. Only some small changes in the stone and the statues caught your eyes, but as the doors opened to the throne room, a wave of unfamiliarity washed over you at the sight. The white marble of Dream’s palace was pristine in every sense of the word, reflecting the array of light and color that swirled around the room, drawing your gaze to the tiny crystals that hung in the air like drops of frozen rain. It was beautiful, marvelous, but not what you knew to be.

The stairway leading to the throne was wrong as well, far more winding and long, a path of almost transparent crystal. The stained glass windows above the throne shifted to reflect you, a perfect vision of white mist and black dogs and golden leaves. It was as if The Dreaming was trying to welcome you… trying to lull you into a feeling of peace or comfort at all that was not as it should be. And there, in the place of the throne, you knew Morpheus to have was something entirely not his. It looked far more organic, like a split geode holding an uncontainable cosmos of stars and cosmic clouds inside it. And sitting on that throne was a being that was not Dream of The Endless. Not your Dream.

The pale being lifted his head, and not a single strand of his cloudy white hair strayed. His black eyes consumed you entirely, two small slivers of starlight shining brighter as they looked upon you. The robes he wore were white, adorned with golden designs, and there, sitting proudly upon his chest, was a glowing emerald dreamstone.

“It is a great honor to meet you at last, Munin of the Emerald Wood.” His voice was silken and light, Dream’s but not his. 

“You are not my Dream… are you?” You asked with tears building in your eyes.

With a soft sigh, he rose from his throne slowly, almost as if he thought doing so any faster would scare you. “No, I suppose I am not.”

You didn’t dare look away from him as you asked, “Then who are you?”

“The name you would likely know me by is Daniel. Daniel Hall.”

Lies. “Daniel Hall is little more than a child. You could not possibly be him.”

“Not as you know him to be,” he said, slowly descending the winding staircase. “But, as you’ve already noticed, none of this is as it was. A future carved in stone, written in Destiny’s book of things, a future only you can stop.”

“Future?” You questioned, looking around at The Dreaming. “You mean to tell me I’ve stumbled into the future?”

“No,” Daniel replied with a light chuckle. “More of a vision.”

You watched him carefully as he stood before you, hands clasped and a soft, childlike smile on his lips. “So this is what is to come then? You mean to steal this realm from Morpheus?”

His brows furrowed. “I’ve stolen nothing. The Dreaming and the title Dream of the Endless was given to me by he who came before.”

“Morpheus would never just give his realm or his title away,” you insisted. “Unless…”

“He did all he could to stop it, but The Kindly Ones were relentless in their attack. His sacrifice saved The Dreaming and those that remained.” Daniel could see the pain in you, and with a sigh, he added. “He did not suffer. Death greeted him and showed him the way. He was at peace in the end.”

You shook your head, tears rolling down your cheeks. “And what of me? I did nothing while he perished?”

“There were… things complicating your involvement.” He shook his head. “It matters not. You are here now.”

“You’ve been expecting me?”

He smiled, chuckling softly. “No, more… hoping you would find a way here so we could speak.”

“Speak of what?”

"If the love you bare him is even a fraction of the love that lingers in me still…" he lifted a hand to your cheek. "Love he bore for you. Then you'll save him. You’ll ensure this future never has to be.”

With narrow eyes, you asked, “You would give up his power… his title, and his kingdom?”

Daniel nodded. “All I ever wished for was a normal life with my mother. Plots larger than me… Larger than him made that impossible. But you, you could change it.”

“How?”

“Seek out Loki and Puck. The end of your Dream Lord began with their plot and… my mother’s misguided actions.”

Loki and Puck - two tricksters that you’d only met in passing. Gods that were notoriously difficult to track down. “And how do you suggest I find them? They’re not known for making such easy.”

“Visit my mother,” he urged. “And myself, I suppose…” he chuckled again. “The two should be close by.”

You paused, listening to the faint sounds of The Forest calling you home. “What happens if I fail?”

Daniel only smiled, reaching out to lift your hand to his lips. “Then I hope this is not the last time we meet, Lady Munin. And that the next is under better circumstances.”

*

Lyta Hall lived in a modest apartment in a bustling city. Though you’d ventured into the mortal world before, it looked vastly different from what little you could remember. She was surrounded by those she loved, Rose Walker and Ged, and many familiar faces - faces you knew from memories alone. And while the apartment wasn’t large or lavish, she appeared to be happy aside from the large bags that hung beneath her eyes, telling you she’d not found any peace in her dreams.

For a while, you simply watched them, searching for some sigh of Loki and Puck’s coming mischief, but the longer you looked in, the more you felt compelled to venture closer. You wanted to speak with her, to reassure her that her husband was safe and loved. And so you found yourself in her apartment, standing in the kitchen and admiring the little notes, photographs, and memories each held. Lost in your own examining, you barely heard the sharp gasp and the sound of wood scraping against the floor as Lyta hurriedly rose from the table at the sight of you.

Suddenly you were reminded that it was not normal for people to appear in mortal homes simply, and you bashfully bowed your head to her. “Apologies. I did not mean to startle you.”

“Who are you?” She demanded, forcing her voice to sound firm and dangerous.

“We have met before,” you answered softly. “In a dream.”

Her face softened slightly. “You… you’re the one that took Hector.”

Nodding, you answered the question she had not asked. “He is safe. He misses you,” your eyes drifted to the small child in his high chair. “Both of you.”

“What do you want?” She demanded, wiping her eyes. 

“I simply wanted to apologize for my coldness that day. I was… I was not myself.” You sighed. “Were it within my power, I would have let him remain with you.”

“But it isn’t,” she answered bitterly. “It’s his power, isn’t it?”

You realized Morpheus was the he that she spoke so sourly of. “It was out of his power as well. The Dream Lord means you no harm, Lyta. This is why you’ve not slept, isn’t it?”

Lyta looked at Daniel and shook her head. “I don’t want him to come for my son… not while I’m under some spell and can’t defend him.”

“Dream of the Endless would not steal your son,” you said gently. “He means neither of you harm.”

“You don’t know that,” she replied bitterly.

“I do,” you assured her. As you watched her move to the child's side, you felt an odd power humming around her. The song of the Endless echoed from the boy, swirling around her, but beneath his song was power. A power that you knew. Lyta and Daniel froze, time halting as mist rolled in from unseen places, and their power engulfed the apartment.

"You are meddling in dangerous things, lost one." Their combined voices sent a chill up your spine, but not one of fear or anger… A feeling of familiarity.

The Mother tutted softly as she moved around the frozen figure of Lyta Hall. "Fate is not something easily changed, dear sun."

The Crone lifted her head, glaring at the babe in Lyta's arms. "And this fate is one you should not even attempt to alter."

"I won't let you do it," your voice was cold as mist rushed beneath your feet. The Forest bled into this illusion they thrust you in, dark, twisted trees casting long shadows over the three. Black engulfed your fingertips, and you could feel the darkness, the daunting power of it bending to your will. "Morpheus is mine. And none shall have him while I draw breath."

The Maiden tilted her head, eyes shining back at you in admiration. "You always were so determined."

"So headstrong and unafraid," The Mother continued, her eyes bearing a deep sorrow that surprised you.

"It is what led you to your doom the first time." Though The Crone's eyes were stiff, guarded, and unwilling to bend beneath your steady gaze, her voice trembled, lips quivering as she uttered a single word. "Mneme."

All at once the darkness vanished. You felt your power stripped away, leaving you trembling and bare before The Fates. Breathlessly you fell to your knees. Sparks of golden light and a searing, unbearable pain engulfed you until all you could do was scream.

Not a word. Flashes filled your vision, swarming like molten gold in water. A name. Fire blazed, and a burst of sickening laughter echoed in your mind. Your name.

Their hands offered you some comfort, albeit temporary. The Mother smoothed your hair back. "Do not fight it."

The Maiden stroked your cheeks. "Let it come."

The Crone looked down at you with tears in her eyes. Her palm pressed to your forehead. "Remember."

*

The first thing you saw once the blinking light faded from your vision was the orange hues of the sun setting over the ocean. You sat upon the edge of the cliffside, wind combing through your golden locks of hair, and a peaceful feeling settled in your chest. You were home.

"Mneme!" The Fates’ voices called out as one. 

Turning your head, you smiled at them. "Not too close to the edge, I know!"

The Maiden offered you a smile back. "The fall would be terrible indeed, even for one such as you."

The Mother waved, gesturing to you to come to them. "Come down from there, sweet child!"

The Crone rolled her ancient eyes and scoffed. "She won't fall! Our Mneme is far too surefooted to do something as foolish as that."

"Accidents still happen, sister self." The Mother reminded.

You squeezed her hand. "I'll be more careful."

"More careful!" The Crone laughed. "She's been careful since the day she was born, I doubt she's capable or more."

The Maiden lovingly braided a strand of your hair. "There's no harm in having fun every now and then."

The sky above had begun to shift to the deep star-filled night, your favorite. "I have to go."

"Back to that tree of yours?" The Crone asked.

"Back to the humans?" The Mother's question was far more bitter.

You kissed all their cheeks. "I'll be home before the sun rises!"

More light flashed, more voices echoed in your mind as your body felt like it would burst apart. You saw it through the slightly golden haze. The Great Tree standing tall amidst a bustling village. Its trunk was a rich reddish brown with golden leaves glistening in the low light of the fires the humans had lit to illuminate their festivities.

In the blink of an eye, you were in the tall branches, looking down at the bodies that moved below, watching the humans with wonder. You and the tree had been linked from the moment of your birth. A tree with roots that spanned across realms and lifetimes and a little spirit born of fate and memory. 

A rather simple pair when compared to the billions of other supernatural and immortal beings and creatures that existed. But, you were fine with simple. You enjoyed your time spent on Mount Helicon and watching the humans, quietly gifting them with long memories and thus making their marvelous stories last forever.

It had been centuries since you'd heard the lovely tune for the first time. The first song ever made. A simple and beautiful thing that planted a seed deep inside you. A longing for something real… Tangible… Something wholly yours. You had no idea what it would be, this thing, but some nights you could hear The Fates whispering. They must've known. There was little they did not see. So, you waited, hoping that it was something marvelous.

The memories raced by, quicker and more painful than before. You could feel the raw ache in your throat, a result of your screaming, but you could only hear the voices. It was all still fragmented, flashes of a happy life with The Fates that all shifted… The sour smell of decay stung your nose. These flashes were darker, the fragments blurry and hazed. 

You felt fire cracking under your skin, nails clawing at the wrong flesh that caged you. A laugh… A wide and villainous grin letting down at you. Unfamiliar hands touching you… Defiling you… The human's bright beauty slowly diminishing before your very eyes. You could taste the salt of your tears and feel the ache in your knees as you bent to the floor and begged. "Harken to me!" Your voice sounded so broken… Desperate. "Please, I beg of you! Deliver me from this place!"

The gentle hands that touched your head bore a somber tinge that answered the question you did not even ask. "Enough, dear one."

"You should rest," The Maiden said.

"You will need it for what is to come," The Crone finished.

"Help me," you begged them, lifting your drowning eyes. "There must be something you can do… Someone to intercede on my behalf."

The Crone's eyes turned cold as she sighed. "Foolish child. You are awfully bound. There are none that can deliver you from this place."

The Mother's eyes were filled with tears. "Not now, at least…"

The Maiden braided a strand of your dull hair. "Not when so much of you has been spent."

"I am so sorry, dear one…" The Mother pressed a kiss to your head. "Your prayers were wasted."

"No!" You cried out, rising to reach for them, but they were already gone. The chain binding you to this place scratched against the stone floor. "Do not leave me…"

The pieces fragmented further. Shattering like glass when you tried to hold onto them. All you could truly recall was a knife, blood, screaming, and fire. Darkness that felt warm and safer than what you'd known for so long and then breathlessness. You could see a rippling surface, bubbles floating away from you as the air abandoned you. 

As you sank deeper into an unknown abyss, you could see the golden strands of your hair fade to white, and a voice echoed in your mind as all else began to fade away. "You will never be rid of me!"

*

"Mneme," The Maiden's voice called out to you.

"Stop," you begged, voice raw and hardly understandable. This wasn't true… This was a trick. All of it. Their hands, cradling your head, felt too heavy. "Don't call me that."

“Mneme…” The Mother cooed softly as you shook their hands off you.

“Do not call me that! I… I cannot deal with this now. I… There’s…” You wanted nothing more than to sob, to let the information you’d just regained swallow you whole. 

Morpheus needed you. The events Daniel spoke of could still be years away, but you’d not risk it. Especially not now. Forcing your body upright, you looked into the eyes of The Fates. “I am going to change what is written. Morpheus will not perish, least of all at the hands of you.”

The Maiden’s tears were like diamonds upon her cheeks. “We take no pleasure in this.”

Your sound of disbelief caused The Mother to sigh, “Not much pleasure in it.”

“You cannot change this,” The Crone said, cold as ice once again. “Try as you might, what is will be and what will be is.”

“The only one you shall harm is yourself,” The Maiden replied.

"You will spend your power," The Mother warmed. "Spread yourself thin until all you are withers."

"Lost again to Lethe," The Crone finished.

“If anything happens to him… anything at all, it is you that I shall harm. Consequences be damned.”

You didn’t give them the chance to speak again, vanishing from the apartment and from their presence with a mere thought. The world felt both heavier and lighter, and with it, you felt both more powerful and less. Forcing the memories… the past from your mind, you put your plan into motion. It was just as you’d told The Fates. None would have Morpheus.

The meadow was quiet. From what you’d seen of the human world, there were few places like this that remained. Calm and untouched, reeking of old fairy magic and buzzing with godly power. Two tricksters lurking in the shadows. The combination of their power was dizzying and stunk of mischief. A warning to any that drew too near to turn back and hope you’d not caught their eye. You, however, would not be so easily deterred.

“What have we here?” An old and giggly voice purred from the shadows.

“A little witch?” Another chimed in, smug and prideful and filled with echoing laughter.

You showed no emotion as you addressed them. “I am Munin, Queen of realms of memory.”

A figure appeared a greenish beast with scales and fur and long pointed ears. Sharp teeth gleamed back at you as the deep red eyes of the spirit Puck glowed. “Queeny, Queeny, Queeny… why are you so far from your castle?”

Bright hair and an angular face examined you closely from a safe distance away as Loki grinned back. “Come to play with the old tricksters, have you?”

“More like come to talk sense into you,” you replied calmly, urging the wood around you to slowly shift.

The two laughed loudly, clutching their guts as they looked at each other. “Sense? Oh, we’ve not had sense in ages!”

“So I’ve been told. But, kidnapping a dream-touched child is a new sort of stupidity I thought even you two would be above.”

“Careful now,” Puck growled. “I’d surely hate to have to get blood all over that pretty white dress, Queeny.”

“It would be quite the shame,” you agreed. “Though the dress could be a trophy of sorts stained with your blood.”

Puck giggled, deranged and gleeful. “I like you!”

“Focus,” Loki insisted as he languidly stalked forward to circle you. “What’s this about a kidnapping?”

You followed him for a moment but chose to keep your eyes on Puck; he was the one you’d have to be most mindful of. “Your little plan to kidnap the boy… Daniel Hall.”

“How would you know about that?” Puck questioned.

“I have my ways.” That was the only answer you offered them. “The how is hardly the point. I’m far more interested in skipping it all together so we can focus on the bit where you both use your brains and forget about this half-baked scheme.”

Mist slowly began to seep between the trees, a low groan echoing in the air that signaled your plan had worked. Loki shook his head. “We aren’t exactly known for listening to threats from little girls.”

You smiled. “I’ve not even threatened you yet, Odinson.”

“Do not call me that!” He hissed, pointing a long elegant finger at you.

“I’ll call you whatever name you see fit after you’ve agreed to leave Daniel and his mother alone.”

Puck tutted, clawed nails digging into the branch he leaned on. “Greedy, greedy. You’re getting boring, Queeny! Perhaps we should just be done with you… After all, you look so tasty!”

Sirius dove out of the mist and snapped at the spirit. “Mind your tongue, beast. Though I shall gladly rid you of it should you insist.”

Loki pulled two daggers from their sheathes as The Corinthian appeared somewhere off to the side of you, calm and collected as he casually leaned against a tree. “Naughty puppy!”

Rolling your eyes, you lifted a finger, calling forth the tree roots to bind them. “Enough of this.” The trees wound around their limbs, squeezing hard enough that were they not immortal beings, their limbs would have snapped. Loki sneered while Puck laughed. “It’d be in your best interests to leave the child alone.”

“Best interests,” Puck laughed harder. “I care little for interests.”

“You may not care,” you began, eyes turning to the god. “But he does.”

Loki shook his head, chuckling at the notion that he cared about anything at all. “You think you know me, little wood witch?”

You shook your head and walked along the tree roots. “I do not care to know you, trickster. But, I see more than just your eyes…” Memories swirled inside them, good and bad, joyful and not. “We may not have met more than in passing, but make no mistake, Loki, I know you.”

Puck was the wildcard, the mischievous being that none could reason with or bribe unless he so sought, but Loki was a god. He was shrouded in golden pride and a deep-rooted desire to make Odin love him. Loki was the one you needed to convince. Puck would follow, or he would die, a choice you’d not have to spell out for him, especially with Sirius’ watchful eye and menacing teeth gnashing in the sprite's face.

“Why do you care so much for this runt?” Loki pondered with a wide grin. “Have a soft spot for dream-touched mortals?”

“Why does not concern you.” You sat down on a high-up branch and stared the god down. “No more questions, Loki. Will you leave Lyta and her son alone, or will you die here in my little woods?”

He attempted to shrug against the branches that held him. “It’s not me you need to worry about.”

Puck rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t need to fear me! This game has gotten boooorrrriiinnggg! One little mortal, dream-touched or not, isn’t worth this kind of fuss.”

Loki glared at the sprite, clearly displeased by his so-called partner in crime's words. “Fine then. We’ll leave the kid alone. Happy now?”

“Swear it.”

“I swear it,” he sneered back. “Now let me go.”

You waved your hand, and the roots released. Puck was gone in a blink, no promises made or extra words exchanged. Here then gone, just like you’d expected from the trickster. Loki remained, anger and some ugly, wounded pride shining in his eyes as he glared at you. Sirius growled. “Leave this place, trickster. And pray you never return.”

Suddenly all emotion drained from the god's face, and he laughed. “You know, I don’t much like being humiliated, especially not by insignificant little girls. Do you think you're suddenly untouchable just because you have some new realm and a bit of power? Well, you aren’t.”

Lunging for you, Loki found himself face to face with The Corinthian, who smiled as he brandished his blade. “I believe my lady released you. That means you leave.”

“I’m not scared of you, nightmare!” The god shouted.

“You should be. Hold him down for me, pup.” Sirius surprisingly heeded the nightmares command and pulled the god down while The Corinthian worked with his blade. The screams were drowned out by the trees cheering and laughing at the now mutilated god. You stood high above it all as The Corinthian finished his work and turned, presenting you with the eyes he’d plucked from Loki’s skull. Bowing his head, he chuckled. “Any other body parts I should take, my lady?”

You accepted the eyes and shook your head. “No. Kat has already sent word to Odin. Someone will be here to collect him shortly.”

The Corinthian glanced at you. “You alright, Daunty?”

Your mind was plagued with the past that you’d still not fully regained, a thing you now had broken and confusing fragments of. “Yes. There’s just something I need to do now.”

“Need a nightmare?”

Smiling at him, you shook your head and placed a loving hand on his cheek. “Not this time, dear Corinthian.”

*

Upon Mount Helicon, a secluded cabin stood overlooking the sea. The cabin was not what you’d pictured when you thought of The Fates. You’d imagined they’d live in some large palace or a winding maze, like Destiny, but there the three stood, looking out at the sea as you quietly approached. “Such a lovely sunset.”

The Mother smiled at you. “It used to be your favorite part of the day.”

The Maiden laughed softly. “You’d sit here until the yellow faded from the sky entirely.”

“One sun,” The Crone said. “Watching another.”

"Whatever the reason for this… Fondness, you bear me…" you stopped yourself, pain that you could not yet confront boiling within you like the fires in your vision. Shaking your head, you met their gaze again. "I urge you to cease these schemes against the Dream Lord."

The Maiden nodded, "Painful as this may be, you cannot run from the truth forever."

The Mother took a step closer with a sad smile. "Oh, dear one… Is this truly your wish?"

"It is."

The Crone stood before you, cold eyes slightly less so as she wiped your tears. "Very well. If it is your wish, we shall honor it. So long as Dream of The Endless does not bring harm upon you, then we shall not harm him or his Dreaming."

“Thank you… my mothers.”

The Three smiled sadly and watched you go. The Forest greeted you as it always had, offering you soft handing leaves to dry your eyes and a melodic rumbling to ease the ache in your heart. You did not know when you would be able to accept what you now knew fully, nor did you know if you’d ever be strong enough to remember the full brunt of the pain your past life had lived through, but you did know that The Fates had spoken at least one truth. You would not be able to run from it.

A dark figure emerged from the trees, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of you. “There you are.”

“Morpheus,” you breathed, the pain easing as air filled your lungs.

His eyes narrowed as he took a step toward you. “Where have you been?” His arms wound around you, pulling you into the embrace you’d fought so hard to preserve. You buried your face into his chest and breathed in his scent. “I’ve been worried.”

With a soft noise, you smiled. “Forgive me, I did not mean to worry you. There were some things I needed to take care of.”

“Is all well?” His breath hitched at the mere thought of something being wrong. 

You smoothed your hands down his chest and smiled. “All is well. I… I learned many things these past few days and have many questions that need answering.”

Morpheus nodded, soft hands caressing you. “I trust you will tell me your meaning when you are ready to?”

“Of course,” you answered. “It would be rather cruel of me to keep you in such suspense.”

“Cruel is not a word I’d use to describe you, my love.”

You wanted nothing more than to tell him of all you’d learned and everything that had happened in your time apart, but instead, you simply smiled. “Would you walk with me?”

He seemed to understand the gentle gleam of tears in your eyes and quietly offered you his arm and a kiss upon your head. “Always, my love.”

The two of you walked through the misty forest until you found the cave of crystals and the lake that you’d once danced upon. Without needing to speak any words, he stepped out onto the water and swept you away into a starlit dance. With your head laid against his chest, listening… feeling the steady beating of his heart, you finally spoke, “Do you think we will remain together in whatever existence comes after this?”

“I should think so,” he answered with a soft laugh. “We’ve found one another against impossible odds thus far.”

"Well, if it should come to an end, this immortal coil we find ourselves in..." You pulled away from his chest and gently held his face in your hands. "I should like it to end by your side, that we might turn to stardust together or be bound in the roots of the earth as one. I shall not pass to whatever existence awaits us in The Sunless Lands without you, my dearest Morpheus."

With the software of smiles, he pulled a small thing from his cloak and held it between you. A ring. The stone in the center was an ethereal array of thinking stars with a branch-like band of roots twining around it. He lifted your hand to slide the ring on your finger, kissing it and whispering a soft oath, "I vow that no matter what comes, nothing shall ever part us again. I am yours, Lady of The Forest, Distress, Discourage, Daunt… Munin. In every existence, every realm and lifetime, I am yours."

"Just as I am yours, Prince of Stories. Always."

Beneath the starry skies and amidst the groaning echoes of your realm, you and the Dream Lord shared a kiss, soft and bright and beautiful. For that one moment, the past didn’t matter. Not Daunt or Mneme… you were Munin, and you were here. You were loved. And as you stared into the eyes of your lover, you knew you always would be.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 As Dawn Breaks: Chapter One

As Dawn Breaks: Mother Night and Father Time, after having sired seven Endless to personify life in the known universe, create Earth and human life begins. One last Endless is created: Dawn, the personification of illumination and hope, the beginning of a new day, and a chance for happiness and improvement. A love will span thousands of millennia, breaking with every sunrise and renewing hope come sunset. Yet, even the personification of hope can lose the very notion of her existence from the sting of a broken heart.

Warnings: None. 

To Note: Dream/Morpheus x Endless!FemaleReader(Dawn), This Involves Themes That Are Not For Everyone. 

Word Count: ~2.7k

Masterlist | Next

Mother Night and Father Time created the seven Endless to personify life within the known universe. Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Desire, Despair, and Delirium. They did their jobs admirably, and well, for eons. Destiny personified a life journey. Death, the end of life. Dream oversaw the dreams and nightmares. Destruction, so that creation may happen from ruin. Desire embodied the darkest secrets one held. Despair embodied a feeling that all lifeforms felt at some point in their life and the youngest of the Endless? Delirium, the epitome of chaos and previously known as Delight. All was well within the universe, millennia going by in harmony. Then a life-sustaining planet came to be and it quickly became abundantly clear that the new race of sentient life was lacking in one last personification. So Mother Night and Father came together to create one last Endless. You. 

You were created on a bed of lavender and stars, swathed in blankets of shimmering ebony. Against your naked breast lay a morning dove whose wings were of grey and pink. You had been woven from stars, oceans, and daffodils to culminate the very essence of what you were to represent: hope. You would rise and fall with the sun and moon, come and go like the great tides of oceans, and feel with the crescendo of the tallest waterfall. The capacity in which you were created to understand and feel human emotion was like none of the previous Endless before you. Eyes flickering open, you saw the inky black of the universe, touched with stars, planets, and dust. You had the knowledge of the universe, but the sight before you still took your breath away. 

Rising from your cradle, dove fluttering into space, you felt the blankets that had been covering you, travel and drape across your body until you were dressed in a simple onyx shift. Your eyes gazed out at the universe in wisdom and innocence, enraptured by the overwhelming beauty and life that stretched out before you. Your dove fluttered in front of you and holding your hands out, you let her land on your joined fingers. She was your companion your creators had gifted to you, she would represent you, be your sigil, be your closest friend. Cradling her light body in one hand, you stroked a finger over her head and down her soft grey back speckled with black. She cooed at you and leaned into your shift, her black eyes closing in contentment. Already you could feel the bond you shared with her. While you stroked your companion, you felt a shiver run across your shoulders. You looked up into the vastness of space, feeling Mother Time and Father Night. 

They did not need to speak physical words to convey their message to you. You had a job that they were entrusting you with, the entire reason for your creation after so many eons of on seven Endless. You were to personify the one natural force that life could not exist without. It was a daunting task but you, in your newborn state, were ready to take on such a task. As your creators drew back to return to their duties, you felt a ripple of energy and then the blossom of seven powers much like your own. Your predecessors had arrived. Holding your dove close to your body, you slowly turned around, your bare feet sliding across space rocks and rubble. The seven Endless, eons older than you, were lined up in order by creation. The oldest, Destiny, spoke to you first. 

“We welcome you, sister,” Destiny had a kind voice and was draped in cloth, his face covered. You knew he could not see but he still had sight and saw the possibilities of everything. “To the beginning of the endless and all that you may bring to creation.” He was wise and all-knowing, a heavy burden you could feel.

“Come now brother, you don’t need to be so formal and mystique,” Death interjected, kind brown eyes looking at you with softness. She held so much life behind her eyes, despite the very task she was made for. 

“Mystique? It’s rather amusing, actually,” Desire cooed, their golden eyes washing over your form and to the little dove you held against your bosom. “Our parents appear to have made such a fragile and innocent Endless, how are you to help creation?” You remained silent to their provoking words. “Will you not speak little dove? Surely we aren’t that terrifying.” Your head tilted to the side in curiosity as the older siblings proceeded to chide Desire for attempting to pick on you. Desire merely rolled their golden eyes. 

“Dawn has been made as Mother Night and Father Time bid, Desire,” Destiny called out, shifting his grasp on the book chained to his wrist. “We shall leave our new sibling to her new realm.” The siblings bid their farewells, giving you curious last looks for your lack of speech. As Desire prepared to return to their realm, a voice broke the silence in a sweet almost intangibly beautiful lit. 

“Tell me, Desire,” You spoke, your eyes focused on Desire as the rest of the siblings turned around in surprise. Gently, you moved your hands away from your body and held out the one holding your dove within. “What is life without hope?” Your dove soared from your hands into the blanket of deep space, speckled heather gray wings stretched out. As flower petals started to swirl around the skirt of your shift, you gave Desire the briefest of smiles, your eyes glowing with the embers of your true power. Then you disappeared in a swirl of flower petals and stardust, leaving behind the nest of lavender and stars you had been born in. 

To the surprise of their siblings, Desire let out a genuine laugh and smiled deviously. 

“Well, what do you know? She has a backbone after all. What fun she’ll be,” They mused with sly rhetoric. A red shimmer surrounded Desire. “I like her already, I wonder what other surprises Dawn holds behind those innocent eyes of hers.” Destiny, Death, and Dream were the last to leave and the three oldest siblings exchanged looks. 

“It is troubling that Desire has taken a liking to our newest sibling.” Death commented softly, looking to Destiny. Destiny did not immediately reply, his mind absorbed in the endless futures of the newest edition to the small family. 

“Hmm, sibling, I do not believe… not purpose, hope…” He trailed off, his mind fully entranced in the future and possibilities of Dawn of the Endless. Dream and Death watched as he walked away disappearing in a fade.

“Do you think that Desire shall tempt her?” Dream asked, addressing his remaining sibling. Death considered what she had witnessed and what she could feel from their new sibling. 

“I believe that it is far too early to assume anything about Dawn, for we do not know who she is as an Endless, what she is like, or what she is capable of. We all could feel the immense power Mother and Father placed within her… only time shall tell.” A troublesome thought, Dream considered as he returned himself to his realm, questing the intersection of dreams and hopes. He was sure that out of the siblings, you would have the most interaction with him. After all, what was life, what were dreams, without hope?

Your realm was called The Gardens, but unlike the eldest Endless, yours was not a labyrinth. No, your realm was the epitome of all beauty found within a garden. Lofting waterfalls, endless woodlands, lakes, rivers, and oceans, and homes made from the trunks of trees. At the very heart rested the citadel, your home. It was a sprawling stone fortress that looked overgrown with trees and vines… but make no mistake, the flora was the very lifeblood of your home and was the brick and mortar that held the space together. In total, your realm housed a culmination of mythical creatures from those that took shelter within the tallest of trees, to those that slept in the deepest depths of the ocean, only surfacing when the moon was at its peak. You rather liked having the creatures mortals only dreamed of, inhabiting your realm, it made it extra special. 

You had surrounded yourself with dryads to take care of the living gardens that popped up sporadically within the citadel, and they also helped you keep track of the growing count of hopes that appeared within your library. With each passing year, the numbers grew exponentially and you were well busy. The hopes that the precious humans had were Endless. You supposed that is what gave them their charm. 

“… remind you that the spring flooding in the Flowering Wetlands has, once again, displaced several Will-o'-the-wisp families, three Naiad families, and—“ Rita passed to look at the scroll in her hand, her green finger running down the list. “Ah, yes, the Jengu has decided to make home in the papyrus again, farming has been… difficult. Bezia, I think her name is?”

Pausing in your efforts to prune the over-growing vine of ivy vines within the heart of your citadel, you looked at the stressed Ruta, your head handmaiden. 

“Take a group of handmaidens to reconstruct the flooded homes, I’ll talk with Bezia. I’m sure there is something we can do about her residency” You told her, returning your pruning clippers to the basket of garden tools. The skirt of your dress swirled around your bare feet as you approached Ruta and looked at the scroll in her hands. The spring floods caused mayhem each and every year, but the residents of the Flowering Wetlands refused to live anywhere else. You had no issue with that and were glad to help rebuild what got ruined every year… but Bezia the Jengu, or swamp mermaid, repeatedly used the flooding to take residence in the papyrus fields. You couldn’t have that because it impeded parchment production for the library… but you couldn’t exactly remove Bezia from what made her happy. 

“I see that you have a plan, my lady?” Ruta questioned with a knowing smile. You smiled back and looked up at the sky that shone in the open courtyard

“I’ll be back soon, expect the realm to tremble with change anew,” You spoke over your shoulder, flower petals and stardust swirling around you. Your dove cooed overhead seconds before you and her disappeared. Your journey to the Flowering Wetlands only took seconds and soon you were standing knee-deep within muddy waters, floating plants and flowers surrounding you. Your dove cooed and fluttered down to your shoulder. Scanning the papyrus around you, you spotted a glimmer of a green tail before it disappeared beneath the water. “Bezia?” You called, slowly walking towards the Jengu. 

You spotted the mischievous Jengu watching you from the shallow waters, swimming between the papyrus plants and never staying in one spot. 

“Bezia, I wish to speak to you, will you not pause in your mischief merry-making?” You called out. There was another splash, and you saw her tail flick a couple of plants before she popped out of the water in front of you. The dark-skinned Jengu eyed you wearily, her tail swishing about in nervous energy. “You can’t keep taking residence among the papyrus fields, Bezia, we need them for the library.” Her facial features scrunched in distaste.

“The papyrus fields are the best home to have, my lady, the salt water chafes my skin and the freshwater doesn’t feel right on my fins,” Bezia replied, flashing you her pointed teeth. Your eyes flickered around you, observing the papyrus fields.

“Which is why I shall make an extension to the Flowering Wetlands to provide you with a home you may take residence in year-round.” You explained to her, a kind expression on your face. “I do not wish for the residents of my realm to feel not at home, that includes you Bezia.” 

The Jengu regarded you carefully, assessing to see if you spoke the truth. Then she nodded. With your eyes sparking to life, you looked to the heavens of your realm and raised your arms, shifting and molding the nearby landscape to stretch and bend, expand and reform. Muddy water sloshed against your dress, staining the white fabric as you worked. When you were done, there was a winding path through the papyrus fields that led to a new grove. In that grove were twisting vines and flowers that wove halls and rooms, a perfect home for any Jengu that further sought home. Bezia’s eyes glowed with happiness, and without a thank you or word, she swam her way to the newly made grove with the excitement of a child. 

You smiled, knowing that she would be much happier now that she had a place to call her own. Raising your eyes to the heavens of your realm, you spent a moment enjoying the nice breeze breaking through the heat of early summer. While you were closing your eyes and feeling the soft gales caressing your body, you felt a summons. 

Dawn, I stand in my gallery and I hold your sigil. I request permission to visit your realm to speak with you on a matter regarding recent dreams. 

You blinked and your lips parted as you exhaled. You could see in your mind's eye that he held an ivory dove in his hands, his starlit eyes staring down into the carved sigil. 

As long as my gates remain open, Dream, you are free to visit me however you shall design. My gates welcome you, you may meet me in my courtyard, I will be but a moment. 

You felt Dream acknowledge your words and enter your realm, his presence emerging within your palace walls. His presence always made you feel more connected to the Waking World. While you carried their hopes, Dream carried their dreams, and together you made dreams come true. Blinking out of your inner thoughts, you looked down at your soiled dress. It wasn’t completely ruined… so gripping the part of it that was mud-stained, you began ripping the hem. Your dress hem was torn to your knees by the time you decided you were satisfied with your work. Wiping your damp palms on the skirt of your dress, you focused on transporting yourself back to the citadel. Ruta will be happy to know that Bezia would no longer be a problem among the papyrus fields. 

Walking barefoot down a hallway you spotted Ruta speaking with Zinnia, the dryad who was in charge of keeping the rooms tidy and neat. In other words, making sure that the plants that intertwined with the castle didn’t get overzealous in their growth.

“My lady,” The dryads echoed as you approached them. Ruta peered at you with a knowing look. 

“I take it out papyrus problem is no more?” You smiled and bowed your head.

“A minor adjustment to the realm was all that was needed, Ruta. There was no malignancy behind Bezina’s actions.” Ruta bobbed her head and drew a line through a point in her checklist. 

“I thought so, I have a few more items to sort out within the Forest of Songs… but I can do that by myself. I believe Lord Dream is waiting for you within your courtyard?” 

“Yes, we have business,” You confirmed, your eyes lifting to the hall that led to the inner sanctum of the palace. “Please contact me if you run into any more problems, Ruta.”

“Of course my lady,” Ruta replied before she and Zinnia bid their farewells and departed. You resumed your course to your courtyard, walking beneath the curtained waterfall that flowed at all four entrances of the open space. At your footfalls, Dream, who had been standing and observing the pond in the very center of the courtyard, turned around. His eyes met yours, then widened when he took in your state. 

“Apologies for my state of dress, I was assisting with the spring floods within the Flowering Wetlands and it gets… muddy this year,” You said in a soft explanation. Dream’s lips twitched at your words. “You said you had a matter of recent dreams you wished to speak of? How may I help you?” 

Date Published: 1/16/23

Last Edit: 1/16/23

Masterlist | Next

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

Maso’s Krampus Christmas 2022

Morpheus

Summary: Dark!Christmas Special Edition 🎄

Song inspiration: Hypnosis - Sleep Token

Pairings: Reverend!Malakai x Reader

Editor: @thenightmareismyreality

Tag: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @damnnhausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @baysexuality , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @sldghmmr , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @blaquekittycat

Lift, oh lift me out

Of my own skin

Of all my doubt

Oh, and take, take from me

Leave nothing left

Take everything…

The bright shade of white covered the asphalt and ceilings, given the deserted street a peaceful atmosphere. The yellow, almost orange-like streetlights cast a faint glow inside the isolated church, making the black walls and altar appear even more daunting than before.

Purgatorio - as it was known - was not an easy place to find. The church was constantly changing cities and states, gathering new followers and stopping wherever Reverend Malakai felt drawn to.

No matter where The House went, only a handful of people ended up finding the church in the midst of their darkest times. “Just the ones who need purification are the ones who will deserve a seat in these benches” Was the Reverend’s mantra that never changed. Alas, today was the final day the church would be in this city. The moment the sun rises on December 25th, the House of Black would retreat into the darkness until their next calling.

For reasons you could not explain, the sight of the thick coating of snow over the church didn’t fill you with the usual feeling of comfort and safety. On this day, the visual brought deep emotions of despair and sorrow comparable to the feeling of death.

After the special Mass Of The Damned and the big celebrational feast you were the only one remaining in the empty church. All the members of The House had left along with their followers, and the only thing left behind were the last remnants of black candles and yourself.

The dead silence could be considered sinister to some, but not to you. You were familiar with the emptiness, having flirted with it for years, but no longer scared by it thanks to him and his powers.

Reverend Malakai was truly a blessed man, he showed you the path within the darkness, taught you how to find your strength within the shadows instead of letting it scare you away. But if that was the case, why do you suddenly feel consumed by the black flame of loneliness? The control seemed to be nothing but an illusion now that you are faced with the prospect of not having him with you anymore, leaving you consumed by feelings of rage.

The strong emotion presenting in its most ugly version, blinding you and blocking reality. Your eyes focused on the still smoldering candles, giving a mere illusion of warmth that served only to mock your feelings as they grew colder.

Without thinking, you pressed your hands against the cool dark wood of the altar, pushing it until a deafening BANG echoed through the church, the trembling of the ground beneath you matching your emotions.

“You’ll never be alone, Sugarplum. I’ll always be with you” Was what he whispered to you after tonight’s sermon. But if that was the case, then why do you feel so empty?

“FUCKING LIAR!” Reverberated from the church’s walls after you screamed. You wanted nothing more than to see him once more, just so you could unleash this anger towards its rightful source.

…You know you hypnotize me, always…

From the darkness he watched. Mesmerized by your outbursts of rage and how easily you could express such powerful feelings. The lack of control looked incredibly powerful and even inebriating. Malakai felt himself under the spell of your cuss words and aggressiveness, feeling drawn to your burning fire, like Icarus being drawn to the sun.

Your actions only proved that you learned nothing - which most times would infuriate him - but not now, not when such anger came from you. Your lack of discipline and control triggered something in him, something not even he knew he could feel until now. The pathfinder for once felt lost, so lost. Lost in the depths of your most primal being, of your absolute instinct…the real animalistic instinct, the one that shows no signs of control or end.

Malakai thought he could only watch you from the shadows - at least that’s what his original plan was - but now he felt like it would be impossible to not do something. Isn’t that what pure rage does, though? Obliges you to act, to fight the demons you once feared and avoided until there’s only one survivor: you or them. Isn’t that lack of control a twisted form of disciple too? Isn’t surviving by pure and sheer instinct the most primary form of survival? Isn’t that what he preached about?

“In the search for balance and control, first and foremost chaos needs to exist. For there is no order without chaos”. Isn’t that what you are? Chaos in its richer and foulest form?

The House already had order and discipline, but for the first time, Malakai felt the lack of chaos. In reality, control brings you nothing more than coldness and the constant feeling of being numb as if you’re under some sort of tranquilizer. And this is what The House lacked: the burning and painful livid fire of rage.

Stepping out of the shadows and into the low light, Malakai began “One must have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star”

The sound of his voice made you momentarily stop your assault on the church benches to look over your shoulder “He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster” The tone in your voice made it clear that the phrase was directed towards him.

With a faint chuckle Malakai asked “I see you know a bit of Nietzsche then?”

“Ik ken hem heel goed”

The cheekiness in your dutch comeback only served to draw a throaty laugh out of him. “Aren’t you full of surprises?” An amused smile was plastered on his lips as he watched you threatening him with the broken leg of the side chair you were now using as an improvised bat.

“What do you want here? I thought you were supposed to be gone. Aren’t you and your people like vampires? Can’t go out in the sun otherwise you’ll burn to death?”

“Is that what you’d like? For me to burn?”

“Well, I’d only wish you’d be dead. The way you meet it is irrelevant” You shrugged while pressing the tip of the wooden bat against his chest “Although I guess I could test my vampire theory right now” You applied more pressure into the wood, making it sink into his black dress shirt and bite his skin under the thin fabric.

“Unfortunately, I’m afraid that the only thing you’ll find out is that I’m as human as you are, Sugarplum” His chuckle made you frown, not understanding how he could be so peaceful under such threat.

Truth is, Malakai felt alive for the first time in many years. He could feel his heart beating, ferociously pumping warm blood through his veins and keeping his senses alert of your smallest move. Adrenaline, oh yes, this incompatible feeling of being alive and indestructible, unstoppable by any rational measurements or actions. He missed this, oh how he missed this.

“Do you want to kill me?” His voice was stern yet light, with no true reprimand behind it.

Your loud scoff only served to make him smirk “Yes, at least a part of me does”

“And what does the other part of you want?” Malakai asked, curiosity lacing his every word.

…And you make it more (You know you hypnotize me, always)

Than I (You know you hypnotize me, always)

Could ever feel (You know you hypnotize me, always)

Before (You know you hypnotize me, always)...

“To love you” Your eyes locked with his in the semi-darkness “To be hopelessly devoted to you. To let you consume me until there’s nothing left behind”

“The deeper the love, the deeper the hate?” He smirked before slowly pushing the bat away from his chest. Your eyes stared at his hand, admiring how the ink adorned the light skin and made it look ethereal beneath the faint glow of the streetlight.

“No” You locked eyes with him again “They can exist without each other just fine…but the thing is that when they coexist, they make each other stronger. They enhance the other”

“There is always madness in love” Malakai quoted, as you took a step closer to him “But there’s also reason in madness”, you finished the sentence for him before feeling one of his arms closing around your waist.

“Is this what this is?” He whispered against your cheek. His temple pressed against yours, softly rubbing your skin together “The dance of chaos?”

“Perhaps it’s all just a dream” Your lips brushed against his when he pulled back to caress your cheek.

Malakai grinned before tracing your bottom lip with his tongue “Or a beautiful nightmare”. The minute you felt his hand closing around your throat, the black candles went out in the wind and the street lights flickered before they turned off.

Leaving behind, on the inside of the church, nothing but a dark, cold abyss.

[alittlepunkrock]

where you go (i will go) - part iv

Summary: A visit to the Dreaming brings about new revelations and confrontations.

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x f!reader

Words: 5.5k+

AN: See end of chapter.

series masterlist // ao3

. . .

“I flew solo most of the way,

Until you popped up and got in the way;

And I mean that line in a good way.”

     - hazel inside, blackbear

. . .

part iv

“Let go,” he growls, pressing down on your throat harder. The hot tears clouding your vision are growing dark and blurry, the room around you dimming in spite of the smoldering fire beside you. You blink, trying to clear them away, but they don’t leave this time around. They persist, crawling inward, inching over your sight. The anxiety in your chest rises to a new pitch. You feel your body try to hyperventilate, only to choke on the emptiness in your lungs.

Something at the edge of your awareness calls to you, encourages you to do as he says and just let go. The rest of you bucks and rebels against it, fighting tooth and nail to hold on. Even in this moment, in spite of all that’s happening, you’re not ready to go. Not ready to leave him. You had so much to look forward to, so many plans. So much love to give. You were ready to give him it all.  It was all happening tomorrow.

The chaos in your chest reaches a fever pitch. Your heart hollows out at the thought that there will be no tomorrow for you.

As darkness envelopes what’s left of your vision, you feel his hot breath on your face one last time. “I don’t want you anymore.”

. . .

When mortals think of heartbreak, their minds typically turn to thoughts of star-crossed lovers, of loved ones lost, of relationships ended on bitter terms. As you creep through the small motel room you’ve found yourself in, tip-toeing around empty liquor bottles and haphazardly tossed cigarette butts toward the sleeping figure in front of you, you understand that heartbreak comes in many forms. You see it in the way the man sleeps slumped over in his chair, his hair unkempt, skin pale and sweaty, face covered in a gritty stubble. You feel the heartbreak in the way his fingers twitch for drink, seeking the comfort of a glass bottle even in slumber. Heartbreak is the fact that he sits in this dark motel room alone, though you can see a picture of himself, a kind-faced woman, and two young boys glowing on his phone’s lock screen. They looked happy.

Your eyes settle on the withering white, red, green, and orange attachments trailing from his heart, across the litter-strewn floor, under the motel door, and out into the night. A pale halo of blue philautia stutters around him. The solid black thread pulsing out of his chest is darker than all the shadows in the room.

Your heart sours at the sight. Ever since your assignments had been dropped at your door at midnight, you’d been flitting across the globe, trying to finish your daily duties before sunrise. Today was the day Matthew was to take you to see Morpheus in the Dreaming, and you wanted to be ready for him. The sight of the black attachment makes you all the more eager for your visit with the Dream Lord.

“Come here,” you whisper as you take the pale philia, eros, storge, and pragma threads in your hands. You hold them gently as you take a moment to ponder your choice of action. “When you wake, call your wife and sons. Be honest with them. Your wife has already found the help you need, but she’s waiting for you to love yourself enough to take it.” You pause, wetting your dry lips. Your fingers shift to trail over the weak glow of philautia surrounding him. “You may not feel you’re worthy of love. I know. But you are. You don’t have to do this alone. Accept the love they have for you. Let it sow the seed for you to love yourself again.”

As your voice trails away, the rainbow of attachments solidify and shine. The black thread remains, but seems less daunting when surrounded by a halo of radiant colors. You smile softly, pleased with your work. In the back of your mind, though, you fear it won’t be enough. What if Desire’s attachment overcomes what you’ve done?

Staring at the black thread before you, an unsettling air creeps through the room. The back of your neck prickles, hairs rising as you get the eerily distinct feeling that you and the mortal are not alone. That you’re being watched.

You spin around hastily, eyes sweeping the shadows of the room. But nothing, or no one, is there. You jump slightly at a low rumble arising beside you, only to exhale in relief when you realize the man has begun to snore quietly. With a shake of your head, you glance over the room again. Though no one else is here, you still can’t deny what your body is feeling. The sense that something is wrong.

With a run of your fingertips over the next set of names on your list, you slip into a new part of the world. The sensation slips away with it.

. . .

“Hey, uh, Lady Love? It’s me, Matthew. Remember, the talking raven? Can you let me in, please?”

“Matthew!” you exclaim with a grin. At the sound of his sharp beak tapping on your kitchen window, you toss your fantasy novel aside and jump out of your chair. Always eager to be part of the action, Theo slips between your feet as you hustle to the window. With an appropriate “Oh shit–,” you stumble forward, narrowly catching yourself on the kitchen window sill. Matthew’s large, dark eyes blink at you in surprise. With a laugh, you open the window, righting yourself as the messenger raven steps inside. “Sorry about that. Guess I should have left the window open for you, shouldn’t I?”

Matthew ruffles his feathers, stretching his wings after the long journey. You note that a new pouch of sand is tied to his leg. “Oh no, you’re fine. Honestly, I’m just glad you were awake. I told the boss– or, uh, Lord Morpheus that you might still be resting. It’s pretty early.”

Your eyes slide over to the clock on your stove, noting the time there. He’s right – it’s just barely past six in the morning, but you’d been up for hours. You were sure you’d never finished your daily assignments as fast as you had today. And without coffee, no less. It really was a shame Cliff didn’t open until seven.

As you finish setting up Theo’s food, water, and toys for the day, you make idle conversation. “So, ‘Dream?’ ‘Boss?’ That’s some friendly language. You and Dream Lord must be pretty close.”

Matthew’s dark beak inclines slightly, his inky chest feathers fluffing with pride. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. I mean, like I said, I’m basically his best friend. Besides Loosh. Funny, when I first came along, he didn’t even want me around.”

You give Matthew a friendly grin as you finish lacing your canvas sneakers. ‘“Sometimes the people we don’t expect to need are the ones who become the most important to us.”

Matthew seems to cock his feathered head in contemplation. You extend your arm to him, and he hops on with a flutter. “Huh. You know, I like that. That’s pretty good. The next time he tells me he can handle something himself, I’ll be sure to use that one.” Your laugh rings through your quiet townhome, and Matthew ruffles his wings appreciatively. “Are you ready?” he asks.

“Yes,” you breathe. You’d be lying if you said that your trip to the Dreaming wasn’t all you’d been thinking of for the past two days. Not only were you eager to get onto your partnership with the Dream Lord for the sake of your Realm, you were incredibly curious to see his work crafting dreams and nightmares. How did one create something so intimate, so unique to each individual, so limitless? Maybe you’d end the day with a better idea of what was going on in that tousled head of his.

“Alright, then. Matthew, Grand Messenger Raven of Dream of the Endless, first class provider of transportation, at your service.” With a caw, Matthew dips his head and snips the sand pouch on his leg with a flourish. Sand spills to your feet, settling for only a moment before it jumps to life. The vortex that forms around you is becoming more familiar, the fierce winds that whip around you less startling than your first go around. In spite of this, you still find yourself closing your eyes when the sand starts to skim your cheeks.

When the winds have died and you hear the sand whisper against the floor, you open your eyes to find yourself in the Library of Dreams. Though you’ve seen it before, its majesty is not lost on you. A slow smile warms your face as you turn in a slow circle, drinking in the sight. “This place is incredible,” you murmur.

Matthew hops from your arm to perch on a tall stack of books sitting on one of the tables. “Yeah, I guess it is pretty awesome if you like books and all. Which, by the look on your face, I’m guessing you do. I wasn’t much of a reader in my life as a human, but I’m gaining a better appreciation for them now,” Matthew says. Though his face gives nothing away, you can hear the grin in his voice. The sound of soft footsteps sound behind you, and Matthew’s attention flicks that way. “Hey, Loosh!”

You spin to find Lucienne emerging from one of the breaks in bookshelves behind you. Each room is filled with so many books that the spaces between the shelves are almost camouflaged. Her dark eyes smile as they land on you. “Ah, Miss Love. Welcome back to the Dreaming.” Her dark lips pull upwards, her expression open and kind. “I trust your journey went smoothly?”

“Oh, yes. Matthew is an excellent escort. And I’m getting used to all the sand.”

“I’m quite glad to hear that. Such an acclimation will serve you well here.” You chuckle softly, watching as she places a fresh stack of books on the table beside you. “Lord Morpheus is attending to some business with Mervyn, the palace’s custodian. One of our resident dreams, Fashion Thing, appears to have spilled a blood and perrier cocktail in the main hall. Quite the mess.” She shakes her head tenderly, obviously amused. “He should be finished shortly. Perhaps you’d like to peruse my library in the meantime?”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. “Oh, absolutely.” Lucienne smiles widely, a glimpse of bright white teeth peeking through her lips. “Matthew, please inform Lord Morpheus of Miss Love’s arrival,” she requests. At her instruction, Matthew caws a, “Yes, ma’am!” and takes flight toward the colossal stained-glass doors at the end of the long hall. Meanwhile, Lucienne beckons you farther into the library, away from the throne room.

“As I informed you at your last visit, this is the Library of Dreams. The dreams and events of every human life reside here, as well as the stories they invent, published and unpublished,” Lucienne explains, her bespectacled eyes drifting over the bookshelves with adoration. “I am the keeper of them all. The entire library is organized by century and alphabetically by last name. It makes it quite easy for myself, Lord Morpheus, and any other guest to find whatever record they like.”

You nod, lips parted in awe as your gaze moves from the stories of floors above you to the long bookshelf beside you. At the top of the shelf, you find an iron signpost reading “1500s - S.” Within moments, your eyes land on the book you’re looking for, the name embossed on the thick spine in gold lettering: William Shakespeare. “Shakespeare,” you murmur, fingers slipping the book from its shelf and thumbing through the pages. “Now, this guy and I have been through some times together. He made my job easy in some ways.” You laugh, eyes drifting over the countless thoughts, stories, and dreams recorded in Shakespeare’s book. “And maybe harder in some others.”

“Oh, yes. Lord Morpheus paid a special visit to Shakespeare in his youth, inspiring two plays in particular. Lord Morpheus has been instrumental in the inspiration and success of playwrights, composers, writers, and other dreamers all throughout history.”

A small smile graces your lips as your fingers close Shakespeare’s record gently. Your mind ponders all the artists that you yourself have encountered throughout the years, so many of them inspired by love, both reciprocated and unrequited. Bach, Mozart, Austen, Goethe, and so many more. Perhaps you and the Dream Lord’s paths had crossed more times throughout history than you’d thought.

“As I said, Miss Love, my library holds all records of mortals from the dawn of time. Perhaps you should like to take a trip down memory lane with your own volu–”

“No.” The exclamation is out of your mouth before you can reign it back in. Your eyes snap to Lucienne, register the surprised look on her face. You hastily try to stamp down the rising panic in your chest, to smooth your strained expression into something more neutral. A weak laugh escapes you as you try to play off the outburst. “Ah, sorry, Lucienne, but that won’t be necessary. It’s impossible, in fact. I don’t recall my mortal name. I don’t recall anything about my mortal life, really. I lost all of that when I became what I am today.”

Liar.

Lucienne’s face softens, her dark eyebrows furrowing. “Oh, Miss Love, I’m terribly sorry. I did not mean to overstep–”

You raise your hands hastily, shaking your head. You can’t deny the guilt that gnaws at your heart in the wake of your dishonesty, but you press onward. “No, please don’t apologize. There’s really no need. You didn’t know.”

Just as you’re trying to find some avenue of conversation to change the subject, the towering doors to the throne room slowly creek open. Your attention turns, grasping the distraction like a lifeline. With Matthew perched on one cloaked shoulder, Morpheus sweeps through the doorway, walking past the many reading tables to approach you and Lucienne. As he draws nearer, you can’t help but notice the same distinct feeling you did during your first visit to the Dreaming. A hum against your skin, a whisper in the air, a pull in your chest. Having seen him in the Waking World and the Realm of Attachment now, you realize just how potent his presence is in the Dreaming. Some distant part of your mind absentmindedly wonders if you give off a similar presence in your own Realm.

When he comes to a stop a few steps away, Morpheus dips his head slightly in a polite welcome. “Greetings, Love, Deity of the Realm of Attachment,” he murmurs, his voice a rumbling timber in the expansive library. He lifts his head, blue eyes catching yours. “I trust that Lucienne made for excellent company while you waited.”

You nod earnestly, smiling brightly at Lucienne. Though she returns the gesture, you can still glimpse a lingering apology in her eyes. “Yes, thank you. Lucienne was just showing me around her library. It’s extraordinary.”

“Indeed.” With a gesture of his hand, Matthew lifts off Morpheus’s shoulder to land on a lamp by Lucienne. The Dream Lord takes a step closer to you, his long cloak sweeping the floor near your sneakers. “I regret to interrupt your exploration of the library, but we have much to accomplish before dark. It is time for us to go.”

“Alright, Dream Lord. Lead the way.”

Today, when you catch a glimmer in his eye, you’re not so sure it’s simply a trick of the light. “We shall take a shortcut today,” he says. In a flourish, he grabs the long tail of his black cloak and sweeps it over the two of you. As the fabric flutters around you, a gasp passes over your lips. Because you were right the other day - within the Dream Lord’s cloak lives an endless expanse of cosmos. Stars twinkle all around you in the midst of deep navy, a particularly dark ripple of space snaking through the sky above you. The Milky Way. The constellations glimmering around you feel close enough to touch.

Just as quickly as you found yourself in the midst of a night sky, you find yourself exiting it. As Morpheus’s cloak ripples around you, sunlight pierces through the darkness. When the night scene is swept away, you find yourself standing on the black sandy beaches of the Dreaming. The sky of Dream Country, so bright and blue during your last visit, is softer today. The sun peeks through the thinly overcast sky, casting the clouds in muted shades of warm gold. A gentle breeze slips over the waters surrounding the Dreaming, carrying the refreshing scent of saltwater to your nose.

“This is where you go to craft dreams and nightmares?” you ask, following Morpheus’s dark form as he leads you toward the shoreline. As you approach the water, the black sand becomes speckled with dark beachrock. Its surface is slick and uneven under your canvas sneakers, and you pointedly step around the rocks to keep from falling.

“It is.” Morpheus comes to a stop just before the sand transitions into beachrock entirely. You halt beside him. The waves lap up onto the shore, nearly close enough to lick the tips of your shoes. A glance downward reveals small shells in a variety of hues nestled into the nooks where the sand meets the beachrock, tiny flecks of color amidst the dark. A tan sand crab scuttles out of a pit in the rock, hustling up the beach toward the sand. You smile at the sight. “The solitude permits me to think uninterrupted, and I find that the vastness of the ocean puts me in a productive headspace for crafting.”

You nod thoughtfully as your eyes survey the waters. He’s right – standing here on the edge of everything, anything seems possible. “So, how do you start?”

The Dream Lord remains silent for a moment, his blue eyes trained on the shifting waves before you. Then, he murmurs, “It all starts with an idea.”

You consider making some kind of teasing quip, an “of course it does,” but pause. Instead, you say, “Tell me more.”

Morpheus tucks his chin between the lapels of his cloak, closing his eyes in contemplation. When he speaks, it’s with the voice of something ancient, a tradesman with eons of experience, a master of his craft. An Endless. “It all starts with an idea. What does humanity require? What may the Dreaming offer them? What shall prompt them to thrive, what shall prompt them to learn? Dreams are meant to bestow joy, fantasy, inspiration, and hope. They are a reprieve from the Waking World, a safe haven where weary humans find rest. Nightmares, too, are meant to serve humanity. Their function is to serve as a dark mirror that reflects a dreamer’s greatest fears back at them. Nightmares afford dreamers the opportunity to face these fears in the safety of my Realm, so that they may overcome them.”

You nod, soaking in this information thoughtfully. The idea that nightmares were meant to serve humanity rather than frighten them was something you had never considered before. “Do you create dreams and nightmares for each individual mortal?” you ask.

“On occasion. To do so for each individual human would require a considerable amount of time. More often, I craft a dream or nightmare with a particular function. To take a dreamer back to their childhood, to allow them to fulfill a fantasy…then, my creation may go to the dreamers and fulfill their function whilst tailoring it to that human’s lived experience.”

You mull over his explanation in silence for several minutes. As a deity whose work involves visiting each mortal individually, albeit not every day, you understand firsthand how time-consuming that can be. “Okay, so we’re creating a dream with a blanket purpose that can be individualized to different dreamers. What are you thinking?”

Morpheus raises his head. As a sea breeze ruffles his dark feather-like hair, he opens his eyes and turns to you. “You walk amongst humans daily. I should like your thoughts on the matter. What do you believe would bring them joy, reprieve?”

You blink, surprised. You had expected to be more of a passive observer today than an active participant in Morpheus’s work. Your mind quickly turns to the man from this morning. Fingers twitching for drink in his restless sleep. His family, his joy, ripped away by a vice. He must feel so alone. “Freedom,” you say. “Freedom from the vices and burdens that feed upon them. That impair their ability to be happy.”

“Freedom.” The word sounds foreign on Morpheus’s tongue. “Intriguing. I spoke with someone very recently who wished for the same thing.”

“Did they get it?”

“One might say so. Though not in the way he expected.” Morpheus dips his hand into his cloak pocket, procuring a palmful of sand. “But we shall give the humans what they desire. Freedom.”

He sweeps his arm outward, scattering sand all around you. Rather than dropping to the beach, the sands dance through the air, shifting and shimmering. The world beyond them blurs like a mirage. You blink quickly, disoriented. When you open your eyes, you are no longer standing on the beach. Instead, you’re standing in the center of a lush, rolling meadow in full bloom. Wildflowers form a sea around you, each color of the rainbow represented in a speckled tapestry. The grass stretches as far as you can see, and an endless blue sky yawns above your head. It’s beautiful.

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind whips around you, sending your hair flying in all directions. It whirls around you again and again, giving you only a moment’s reprieve before it spins around you a final time. When it does, it spirals with enough gusto to lift you off your feet. Your laughter is bright and joyful as it rings over the field. Though the wind is a fantastical creature, you don’t find yourself startled or frightened. As it suspends you in the air and twirls you around, it seems almost playful.

At your side, Morpheus seems untouched by the childlike breeze. He lifts one pale hand slowly, palm facing upward. The very air around you seems to hum with life. “Freedom. A world without limitations, without burdens. Where one can feel weightless.” He closes his hand into a fist, then unfurls his fingers and guides his palm outward. Slowly, the scene around you shimmers and shifts. The glimmering sands around you follow Morpheus’s command to drift forward. They dance along his arm, around his fingers, gathering into a humanoid shape in front of you. The soles of your shoes gently return to the ground, burying themselves in beach sand once again as the meadow fades away.

A quiet gasp escapes you as you gaze at the dream taking shape before you. A collection of grass blades and petals flitting around on an invisible breeze, confined in a humanoid shape. You can see dandelion pappus gathering in two curved lines on the being’s face like fair eyelashes resting against a cheek. Chinese silver grass fans down its back like hair. “It’s beautiful,” you whisper.

“It will be some time before she comes to,” Morpheus says at your side. His blue eyes sweep over his creation, giving rapt attention to each detail. For the first time since you met him, there is a glimpse of gentleness on his normally stoic face. “Even dreams require rest.” After a few quiet minutes, he turns to you. “Do you have questions?”

Questions? What a ridiculous thing to ask. Of course you had questions. Your brain feels like a shaken beehive; all chaotic, curious energy with no sense of direction. There is so much that you want to know. The only coherent thought you’re able to form is, “You spend so much time inspiring others. What inspires you?”

Your question gives the Dream Lord pause. He looks down at you in silence. It suddenly occurs to you that maybe, just maybe, no one has ever asked him that question before. What inspires the one who spends all his time inspiring others?

After a long moment, Morpheus turns his gaze back to the dream in front of you. Delicate chaparral currant blooms have gathered to form soft pink lips on her gradually evolving face. “I came into existence with the first being that required rest,” he murmurs quietly. “I understand that without them, I would not have become, and cannot be. One day, when my sister brings this world to its conclusion and rest is no more, I, too, will be no more. Some of my siblings – Desire, Despair – feel that their purpose is to be served while we exist. I recognize that my function is to serve. But although I am Endless, I cannot simply do as I please. The universe craves balance, requires it. As you have a set of scales, I have my own, in a way.” He pauses, pink lips pursing. “There cannot be fantasy without fear. But I have found that both fantasy and fear alike have the capability to transform.”

Your mind races, turning his words over again and again, reading the lines between his sentences. “They gave you your life and function,” you whisper quietly. Your eyes search his face for some vulnerability, some emotion, but find none. “You want to return that gift. You want to serve them by helping them reach their potential.” His lack of response is an answer in its own way.

The two of you stand on the beach in silence for some time, lost in thought. When you finally speak again, the dream before you has sprouted two cirrus cloud wings. “So, what’s next? A nightmare?”

Morpheus gradually draws out of his reverie. “Yes,” he says slowly, voice low. “You were once human. Tell me, what do you fear?”

Though his voice is soft, the question rings loudly in your ears. Your head thrums with the pounding of your heartbeat as you turn your eye inward. Looking within yourself is something you strive not to do, self-reflection something you have pointedly ignored ever since . . . well, ever since everything happened. You had tried, of course, to ask yourself in the aftermath: Why? What could I have done differently? Pain was the only response that had echoed from the depths within you. A solitary existence was, in a way, both the cure and the contagion. Loneliness served as both a coat of armor and an endless provocation to look inward, only to find that which you did not want to see.

Your mind turns to Desire’s opposition, your conditional divinity, all that happened eons ago. You know he expects an answer. You know precisely the one to give. It feels as if there is a vice grip around your throat as you choke out, “Not being enough.”

For several long moments, the Dream Lord is incredibly still. Then, in silence, he raises one hand ever so slightly. The black grains of sand at your feet start to sway and shift, pulling away from you as if answering a silent call. You watch with bated breath as they gather slowly, building upwards into two feet, two legs, a torso, two arms, a face. At first, it’s merely a mask of churning sand. But then, a flash of color – an eye. Your eye.

As you recoil backward, a flash of white teeth gleam through the dark grains before retreating back within them. Other features start to emerge from within the sand; a nose, a cheek, pink lips. Within moments, the being in front of you has transformed its face into a flawless imitation of yours. Something primal within you rears its head in response. The nightmare’s lips draw into a smile, but not a friendly one. There is an unnatural tightness in its lips. This smile is small and cruel.

Morpheus’s words echo in your mind. Their function is to serve as a dark mirror that reflects a dreamer’s greatest fears back at them. Nightmares afford dreamers the opportunity to face these fears in the safety of my Realm, so that they may overcome them.

As you confront your own reflection, you find you only want to run.

. . .

The black sand makes for a soft cushion as you plop down with a long sigh. The beach, teaming throughout the afternoon with dreams and nightmares of all designs and forms, is now empty save for you and the Dream Lord. The dream of freedom that Morpheus created – Fawn, he named her – was the last to depart several minutes ago. Her cirrus cloud wings cut through the night sky like shooting stars as she flew away, off to deliver feelings of giddy weightlessness to the Waking World.

As you peer up at the twinkling blanket of stars above, you can’t help but wish that you’d meet her in your own rest tonight. That you could ride on her playful coattails, soaring through an endless field of green without a care in the world. But dreams and nightmares were not for immortal beings. No, you know what awaits you in your dreamless unconscious tonight. It makes you reluctant to return home, yearning to stay out just a little longer.

Despite your lack of need for sleep, you can’t deny that you do need to rest. A distinct cloud of mental fatigue hangs over your brain after the long day. You turn to Morpheus, who stands still beside you, staring up at the stars. “I can’t imagine being responsible for the dreams and nightmares of all mortals. Not just giving them a place to rest or grow, but crafting ideas to inspire them and help them progress as a society. Spurring the world on through artists, engineers, inventors . . . all of it. It must be incredibly taxing, especially after so many eons.”

Morpheus’s gaze tracks the path of a shooting star streaking overhead. The inky sky is reflected in his eyes, two pools of black with a glimmering star in each. “My function goes beyond dreams and nightmares,” he murmurs. He speaks purposefully, thoughtfully, handling his words with the same care with which he crafts dreams and nightmares. “I contain the entire collective unconscious of the universe. Such a function requires laws, boundaries, structure. To have one being preside over something so incomprehensible without these would result in nothing but chaos. It is a responsibility of considerable weight. One I am well-accustomed to bearing.”

You study him in silence. You can appreciate his dedication to his rules, his structure. You had your own to follow, and you had seen what happened when the boundaries of duties were overstepped, when power was taken advantage of. Rules provided safety, security. In the midst of a turbulent, ever-changing universe, they were reliable.

As you reflect on the day, you’re surprised to find yourself feeling calm and content. You had expected to feel anxious in Morpheus’s presence, to feel inadequate as a mere deity in the presence of an Endless. You’d expected to feel nervous about your next steps. But as you sit here reflecting, feeling the soft grit of the sand beneath your palms, you find that you’re excited about what’s to come.

“Well, perhaps I can help remove a little of that weight. Just a little bit,” you say with a small smile. With a grunt, you rise to your feet and pat the loose sand off your jeans. “So, when would you like to start this new undertaking of ours? I’m ready anytime.”

Morpheus slowly pulls his eyes away from the stars to look at you. He appraises you in silence for a moment, something you’re becoming quite accustomed to. When he raises his chin ever so slightly, your instinct tells you to anticipate a challenge. “Why not tonight?” he asks.

You return the gesture, offering him a bright grin. Grateful for an excuse to not go home yet. To avoid rest for just a little longer. “Why not?” you say. You sweep an arm outward, gaze drifting over the beach, the mountains, the ocean beside you. “Where do you want to start?”

“No, here will not suffice.” Your eyebrows furrow at his words. “For an undertaking such as this, we shall require a concentrated source of power to work from. For this, we must travel to the location where the veil between the Waking World and the Dreaming is at its thinnest.”

You nod slowly in understanding. “Alright, Dream Lord. Lead the way.”

Morpheus’s boots whisper through the dark sands as he steps closer. For the second time today, he sweeps the long tail of his cloak over the two of you.

And in the blink of an eye, you’re gone.

. . . 

AN: Hello, everyone! Thank you so much for the kind words about parts i-iii. I am truly blown away by all your sweet, encouraging comments. I officially have the entire story mapped out, and we’re looking at a good fifteen to twenty chapters. I am so excited to have you all along on this ride with me and hope you come to love this story as much as I do!

I did want to let you all know that I am having some major issues with my Tumblr account. My posts aren’t showing up in tags, and I’m unable to message anyone or reply to any comments. Obviously, that’s causing a lot of problems, plus it means I can’t message those on the update list about new chapters. I sent a ticket to Tumblr several days ago, but haven’t heard back. I’m hopeful that this issue will get resolved soon, but if it doesn’t, I’m likely going to begin posting this story on my second Tumblr, @lilpunkrock. In the meantime, while I’m still trying to get things fixed, it would mean the world to me if you guys would consider reblogging part iv. Since my posts aren’t showing up in tags, reblogs are the only way to spread the mopey dream prince love right now.

Thanks so much for all you support! Love you all!

[arvandus]

Arv’s List of Bright Ideas (aka the Fic List that will likely never be entirely completed)

I’m having one of those nights where my brain wants to write All The Things at once.  So here’s my Fic List - some WIPs, some still trapped in my imagination.

1. Touch - of course! Back on my Dabi brainrot and living for it.  My go-to fic when I want to write after a long day.

2. (Sandman) Morpheus x Reader (likely epic multichapter) - I have a mysterious, catchy premise but no fucking plot; but guaranteed to be a slow burn with some sort of major overarching storyline.

3. Loki x Reader (epic multichapter) - idea from ages ago; still determined to write this even though the scope of it is huge and utterly daunting.

4. (Castlevania) Adrian Tepes x Reader (multichapter) - filled with angst and slow burn but plot is underdeveloped still (i actually had TWO ideas for him, similar vibes).

5. Aizawa x Reader (oneshot AND multichapter) - can’t decide between SOS or the fae fic, but I haven’t written him in a while and I MISS HIM.

6. Overhaul x Reader (2 parts/multichapter...?) - Yes, yes... this is the childhood friends to lovers with a part 2 that goes a bit dark (yandere) that I bragged about a year ago and still haven’t finished. 🥲

7. (Stranger Things) Eddie Munson x Reader - was originally two ideas that will likely get merged into one.  It’s my smut fic + fix-it fic.  Fuck yeah.

Bonus - on the back burner:

8. Ushijima x Reader college AU (multichapter) - surprise, bitches, I don’t think I’ve mentioned this one before... also very underdeveloped but my soul craves it.

9. Draken x Reader holiday theme (oneshot) - this tells how old THIS idea is...

10. Nanami X Reader (oneshot) - ummm pure self-indulgent smut... but I’ve never written for him before, so *scary.*

11. Keigo x Reader (oneshot) - hurt/comfort, healing, difficult choices, inspired by Hozier - also had this one saved in my brain for forever...

[loadband383]

Xpanel For Mac Download

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Designing your aircraft instrument panel is one of the most exciting and daunting tasks in the build process. Initial exuberance can quickly fade given the overwhelming prospect of balancing form, function, time, budget and ability. XPanel Software developed XPanel 5000 to greatly simplify the instrument panel design process. With XPanel 5000, designing your airplane instrument panel couldn't be easier. Simply drag and drop avionics onto.. Read more

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[ofillyria]

                                       PAST WIP INTRODUCTION: 

              THE GODLING TRILOGY ( PRIME, SPLICED, DIVINE )

year written: 2016 genre: urban fantasy audience: young adult  pov: first person / past tense tropes & themes: the chosen one, the hero motif, kickass women, bisexual love triangle status: completed - 120k

SYNOPSIS

Lea Reclin begins her story as a high school teenager whose only responsibilities are good grades, soccer practice, and the ever-daunting task of studying for the SATs. But after a trip to the dentist where the hygienists turn to literal monsters, Lea’s grip on a simple reality is lost. Her step-father reveals to her that the gods and monsters of Greek mythology are real. Lea learns that her biological father is Morpheus, the god of dreams.

Lea travels to Olympus, makes a few new friends and is shown the ropes of being a godling; obey the gods, fight for your life, and make sure someone remembers you. Life is short for godlings, as most of their time is spent going on perilous quests to win the favor of their parents. Often, they don’t live to see past their teen years. 

With understandable hesitance, Lea accepts the lifestyle which has been forced upon her and begins to train for the inevitable. In her case, the inevitable is a quest to defeat Nyx, the goddess of night, who also happens to be Lea’s grandmother. Zeus, the king of the gods, feel threatened by Nyx’s rise to power, and tells the godlings that should they fail on this quest the world will be plunged into darkness forever. There is no choice; either she accepts the quest and risks her life for a cause she does not fully understand, or she is smited for impiety.

EXCERPT

I heard footsteps drawing towards me and I looked over to see an unfamiliar face. My usual dentist was a petite woman with poorly done lipstick, but this one was a large man with bits of peeling skin on his face. I thought to myself, I swear to God, if any of that face skin gets in my mouth I will vomit, then I will sue.  But I didn’t realize that the peeling skin was the least of my problems.

He did the usual dentist thing, asked my name and age, showed me my x-rays from two months ago and told me the procedure. I nodded as much as I could and then let him begin. He put those weird clampy things on either side of my mouth that kept my lips wide open and then began to drill. The hygienist loomed over, observing and occasionally wiping up the drool that ran down my face.

After about five minute of drilling, he seemed to hit a sore spot or a nerve because I yelped in pain, my eyes snapping open. The second I made eye contact with the dentist, something strange happened. His pupils narrowed into slits and his iris went from brown to vibrant yellow-green.

I thought the anesthesia was causing hallucinations and what I was experiencing was my mind playing tricks. The dentist stopped drilling and pulled back; whipping his head up to look at the hygienist he sneered, “You didn’t tell me she was a godling!”

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[thegeekerynj]

An Occasional Attempt to Read, Discuss and Review the Wonders of Comics By: John Rafferty, cranky old man, and Fan of All Things Comics

Adventureman #1

Script: Matt Fraction Pencils Terry Dodson Inks: Rachel Dodson

‘I’ve come to understand you’ve an interest in certain books of an old, slightly lurid, and a hard to find nature.

Oh, sure.,Pulps. Big little books, Early SF. POCKET Books, if they’re in good enough shape...

Well then. Maybe this will tickle your fancy...’ ——————————————————————

‘Who knows what malevolence exists in the worst of mankind? Adventureman Knows!

‘Image Comics presents Adventureman! A man of mystery, and his team of exotic heroes, men and women of derring do, who strike terror into the very hearts of evil-doers throughout the world!

‘Adventur-‘ Wait... What??? This isn’t a radio show? But - bu-bu-bu- I was on a roll, in the groove... I had someth—- oh, never mind, it’s gone now.

Matt Fraction. Terry and Rachel Dodson. Mention these names, and the comics The Defenders, Doctor Strange, X-Men, even Hawkeye might come to mind... with good reason. This team has a track record of taking good material, characters, ideas, and turning them into GOLD. Now, not the metal, but ‘the stuff dreams are made of’, to nick a line from Sam Spade. They bring out the best in each other and by default, the material they are working on.

Which brings us to Adentureman.

Issue 1 introduces us to the team, a Shadow / Clark ‘Doc’ Savage mash-up, with magicians, ghosts, warriors, pilots, gamblers, and of course, the team leader, a Super ‘Everyman’, a Renaissance Man of ACTION, Adventureman.

His job, to save that which needs saving, as melodramatically as possible, for he and his team are, in fact, pulp heroes. He, with Chagall, Sally Sweet, Lonnie Langlois, Phaedra Phantom, Jim Royale and Akaal, are called upon to save the city, and by default the WORLD (always heard as capitalized) from the evil that is Baron Bizarre and his team of nefarious ne’er do wells, Baroness Bizarre, the Automaterror, Slugger Dunphee, Hellcat Maggie, and Metamage.

The task is daunting, and in the end, Adventureman and his team fail to complete their mission... Yes the heroes LOSE!

CLIFFHANGER!

Present Day, Claire Connell reads the last words to her son, and he loses it! This is the Last Book In The Series... And it’s A CLIFFHANGER???

Claire shuffles her son off to bed, turns off her hearing aids, and joins her son in the Dance of Morpheus.

Fraction gives us characters we can enjoy, nay like. Claire Connell is a person. She has issues with her family, she doesn’t want to listen to them, so she relies on her disability to help her ‘pay attention’. She turns off the hearing aids, and relies on her less than adequate lip reading skill to make everyone think she is paying attention. But, she would rather be elsewhere...

His characters, all of them, are real. The reader could almost believe these heroes existed during the War Years, trying to keep the Home Fires lit, while America’s Army was fighting for Europe’s freedom.

The Connell Family could be the Reader’s family, some over achievers, some slackers, some judgmental, some condescending... hell.that’s my house at Thanksgiving. And she would rather be in her Mother’s Bookstore. Which is where this story really kicks off.

Here, we are introduced to a new Adventureman manuscript, one which Claire has never seen before. Hell, she’s never heard of it. The woman who brings it to her, wll, there’s something ‘otherly’ about her... as there is about the things trying to get her.

Like I said, Kickstart.

Claire and Tommy, examining the book, finding clues in the book, Claire’s near heart attack when Tommy writes in the book... all believable. Again, Matt Fraction has taken his craft to a new level.

All through this, I haven’t once mentioned the artwork if the Dodsons. There is something so intrinsically beautiful in the matching of a penciller and inker that actually complement / complete each other. The teams of Miller / Janson, Byrne /Austin, Colan / ... well, Gene didn’t need an inker. Anyway, when they complement, rather than add or detract, it is sublime.

These pages are glorious, Each one is a true work if art. I would be proud to frame and hang the simplest of these pages, this is how exquisite, how delicate and expressive the ARTWORK is. Reminiscent of AirBoy, and AZTEC ACE, every panel is phenomenal. And so very expressive.

The “Pulp’ pages extend the Art Deco / Gatsby stylings you would expect from a Super Rich Adventurer of the 1930’s. The detail work, the expressions on the faces, it’s all flood, organic. Exactly as you would expect an Action Scientist / Pilot / Mage / God to look, and be... with nary a dot out of place. Near perfection.

The shift to Modern Cityscape is transitionless. no stutter, no fumble... BANG BANG here we are... organic flow, like turning a page... as it should be, when you are reading a story.

After reading this issue 4 times ( 5 if you count the quote hunt, and flipping back and forth for the suitable one), I can say I can’t wait for Issue 2 to hit the racks. This promises to be one of the reads of the Summer, and I personally am glad the Powers that Be made this the Book of the Week Last Week!

If you haven’t yet, grab it... If you have, add it to your pull list! I can pretty much guarantee, you won’t be disappointed.

Out of 5 🌶 🌶 🌶 🌶 🌶 🌶

[oneirokritikon]

A Catnap

@getclawed

    Certain dreams in the Dreamscape of this new realm, Morpheus noticed, were much easier to access and tether to the ever e x p a n d i n g borders of his realm.  Like a brave colonist, Morpheus was tasked with the daunting challenge of recreating his realm from scratch by traversing from floating dream to floating dream, reuniting it in its rightful place in the Dreaming.

     Dreams which were easier to traverse to were typically of someone in his specific universe, though it is important to note that Morpheus is of all universes, timelines, realities and dimensions.

    One such dream was one he encountered all too often, back in his more approximate area of being, and as such he took it upon himself to assume a more inviting shape to the creature responsible for this specific dream.      A billowing robe with flames lapping the edges became a soft pelt of fur, with a tail that seemed to endlessly burn. Star filled eyes became more narrow and judging, and two legs became four.

   It was a dream of vanity, depicting a penthouse loft in Gotham of all places, decked to the nines with kittens and cats of all shapes and sizes, all of whom were keen to praise the eminent Dream Cat. In said penthouse, a plethora of gems, jewels, and various objects of monetary worth, permeating through the penthouse in its entirety.

   The Dream Cat sat patiently on the bed of the house’s owner, quick to lay his head down and relax. Such a shape did allow him more of a laid-back personality than most others.

          However, a certain question hung in the air of this veritable “dream home”.

Where, oh w h e r e was its owner?

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden

Part 6

Part 5 | Part 7

TW: fluff, a bit of pining, Dream fucks everything up like he does, arguments, depictions of violence, the glass cage is here y'all so buckle up, ANGST, betrayal, character death? This cliffhanger is one of my worst, like honestly I apologize in advance! 😅

“Try this one,” Lucienne suggested, setting the large book down in front of you.

With a soft sigh, you looked up at her and smiled. “We’ve tried this one before, my friend. It held no words then, I do not expect it to now.”

She quietly cursed herself, taking the book back and studying the cover until the memory returned to her. “One moment! I’ll find another!”

“Lucienne,” you replied quietly, reaching out to take her hand. “I greatly appreciate your efforts, but this is hardly necessary.”

“Reading is a beautiful thing,” she insisted. “And I am determined to find a book among these endless shelves that you, my lady, can enjoy.”

“I do enjoy them,” you insisted. “Lord Morpheus has been kind enough to read many of them to me.”

Lucienne gave you a quick, fleeting glance with that knowing smile of hers. “Very true, but it is different to be read to and to read with one's own eyes.”

You shook your head, laughing at her persistence. “You’re not going to give this up, are you?”

“Of course not!” She cried out, returning to her shelves. “I am the librarian after all. It’s my duty to ensure all in this place find what they’re seeking.”

“Very well,” you relented with a smile.

It had been nearly a year since the passing of Puck, and you’d spent more time within The Dreaming than anywhere else. It was nice to have others around to fill the hole left by the loss of yet another companion. The pain would never truly fade, it never did, but at least you did not have to mourn alone. Lucienne offered you friendship and knowledge without reservation. The handyman, Mervyn, was quick to fill your free moments with laughter and projects. Jessamy showed you the best spots to sit in for a moment of peace. Cain and Abel and Gregory provided enough company to make you feel like you were part of a family, even one as dysfunctional as theirs. The Corinthian had been distant, but he always accompanied you for a walk along the beach when you’d asked… though he was far quieter now, far less open with you than he had been in the past he remained your best friend. And Dream… he did everything within his power to make you feel welcomed and at peace.

He often reminded you of the last shaping stone that you wore around your neck in a beautiful necklace that he’d crafted for you. He assured you it would be different than the others, that its life would never fade as theirs had, but you were still afraid. What if your presence corrupted even that? What if you lost this final companion just as you did the others? No. Your heart couldn’t bear such a thing, not so shortly after Puck.

You and Dream hadn’t spoken of that day. Not of the way you’d held his hand or cried in his arms, and certainly not of the way you sought his hand out every moment after. If it bothered him, he hid it well, but part of you wanted desperately to believe he craved the simple act of affection as much as you did.

Jessamy flew beside you as you made your way to Cain and Abel's garden for afternoon tea. It had become a lovely ritual between you, one that had begun with an argument over whose house was best suited for tea and which brother had better cakes. Eventually, after Cain stabbed Abel once or twice, you all came to the agreement that tea in the garden would be just fine. You crossed the bridge and sadly smiled at the brother covered in dirt, beating his clothing off beside his door. “How deep did he bury you this time?”

Abel perked up at the sound of your voice. “Oh, not that deep! It was a small argument, so he just shoved me into the hole rather than buried me.”

“I am glad you did not have to dig your way out this time,” you said, quietly helping him.

“It wouldn’t be that horrible,” the man insisted, his smile never faltering. “Gregory would have helped.”

You heard the large creature leap down behind you, seeking to startle you as he always did. You let him, of course, the look of pride Gregory had was well worth the prolonged wait. He finally made a loud roaring noise and you jumped, twisting around with your hand over your heart. “Goodness! Gregory, darling creature I didn’t hear you!”

He huffed, rubbing his snout against you and sniffing at Abel with a light sneeze. Cain slammed his door shut and set the table without a word. Abel gestured to the plant you’d helped them with. “It grew another leaf!”

Bending over slightly, you examined the still small and frail plant with a silver stem and pale leaves. “That’s wonderful progress.”

“It’ll bloom in no time, I just know it!”

“Teas ready!” Cain hollered, dragging all of you over to the table. “It won’t be awful this time because it’s my tea we used.”

You thanked him as he filled your cup. The brothers used the same tea, though you weren’t going to be the one to tell them this. That certainly was a job for their king. “It’s lovely, Cain.”

Jessamy perched on the table, carefully dipping her beak into a cup of her own. “Tastes the same to me as the last one.”

Cain gave her a cold look. “It’s hardly the same! Your bird taste buds are just weak.”

“If you say so,” she mumbled taking a small piece of cake and eating it.

After drinking tea and having a slice of cake you always remained to play with Gregory. He tossed the ball high up into the air before bouncing it off his beak toward you. You weren't as good at the game as he was, but you both seemed to enjoy the company and simple rules.

When the sun began to set over the garden you bid your friends farewell and made your way toward the palace where Dream waited for you on the bridge. You couldn’t help the way your heartbeat stuttered at the sight of him, nor the way your cheeks burned and a smile formed. His head turned and one of the corners of his mouth twitched. “How was tea?”

“Lovely, as always,” you told him as the two of you fell into step with one another.

He hummed. “And the library? Did Lucienne have any luck finding you a book?”

You shook your head. “She did not, but it was still nice getting to spend time with her.”

“Shall we?” He gestured toward the path to the pier. 

It had become a regular thing of Dream to accompany you through your work, one you appreciated greatly as he seemed to genuinely enjoy himself. “If you wish.”

“I do.”

You lifted your hand to him. “Then hold on.”

Things felt lighter with Morpheus beside you. The waters and those that dwelt within it felt warmer and safer. The dreams felt clear and your purpose felt almost good. There were nights when the darkness of the dreamer's fears was heavy, but on those nights you witnessed the mighty Dream of the Endless assert his power over his dominion to ease the shadow and dark.

The two of you walked hand in hand away from the pier, the soft quiet lapping of the water against the strong wood made you feel at ease beside him. The mist grew thicker and the familiar groans of the large trees echoed around you as your realm called you home.

“You can remain here,” Morpheus said, his hand softly squeezing yours.

“I know,” you said equally as softly. “But The Forest needs me, just as your realm needs you.”

He bowed his head. “I understand. Farewell, Daunt.”

You bowed in return. “Farewell, Morpheus. Will you visit tomorrow?”

“If that is your wish.”

“It is.”

He smiled. “Then I shall.”

The mist swirled around you, but your eyes never left his, not until he disappeared from your side completely. Back in the safety and quiet of your realm, you could let yourself feel the burning yearning that grew in your heart with each passing day. Here among the moss and the small flowers and trees, you could let yourself admit that you were becoming more attached to the being you once hated. Of course, you never let yourself think about it for long. You made your way back to your small hut and quietly shut the door, encasing the space in the heat from the fire.

Among your trinkets and the clothes Dream had made for you was an empty bed. You touched the stone around your neck as memories played in your head. Memories of Fern and Gaia and Puck and all the others that had warmed the bed while you were away and greeted you fondly when you returned. You missed each one of them so very much, and normally that would be enough to lead you to wake the stone, but now you had others to rely on. The Dreaming and those that lived within it were all you needed for now.

*

The Forest greeted you as it always did, with low groans and waves of mist. However, something felt different this time as you walked along the jagged path, something that became clear as you stopped at the bridge. The black-clad Endless stood looking out at the river, their blonde hair and gaudy shoulder pieces shifting in the light breeze. “Desire.”

“Finally! I’ve been waiting for ages.” They smirked. “Did you get enough beauty sleep?”

“What do you want?” You demanded, skipping over the fake polite conversation to get straight to the point and hopefully one step closer to their departure.

"You know how this will end, don't you Mistake?" Desire cooed as they looked back at you, their eyes cosmic blue and their hair messy and dark. "You will only ever be his consort, his whore, never his equal. Others far more beautiful and important have tried and failed before you. My big brother will never change."

"You're wrong." You said, ignoring the way your stomach lurched at the way their words. "He has changed."

Desire laughed and shook their head at you. "When my brother casts you aside, and he will cast you aside little Mistake, I hope you'll remember how I tried to warn you."

Just like before Desire left without another word, but the feeling of heaviness remained in your chest and lungs. The Forest still stank with their honeyed perfume and their bitter words. It only began to fade when another came, replacing the bitterness with sweetened ethereal stardust and citrus. Your heart felt lighter as you watched the thick trees bend their roots to forge a path for him.

Dream smiled, admiring the thick dark wood and emerald leaves. “It would seem your realm has at last taken a liking to me.”

“And to think all it took was a few hundred years and some good behavior.”

He tucked a strand of your hair back into place, his eyes sparkling as he gazed down at you. “Hello, Daunt.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your name rolling off his tongue so sweetly. “Hello, Morpheus.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Is everything well?”

“It is,” you said, choosing not to tell him of his siblings' sudden appearance and manipulating words. 

Like most times Morpheus visited your realm the two of you walked among the trees and you showed him things that had changed or appeared since his last visit. The two of you retired to your home where you offered him tea and he inquired about some of the trinkets you’d collected over the years. As you told your stories, his eyes remained fixed on you, shining and bright and full of something you did not want to name. His soft laughter was intoxicating and you found it harder and harder to deny the truth to yourself.

The two of you sat in your wilted garden as you looked over a pile of books Lucienne had sent with the Dream Lord to see if any held words you could see. “With the stories you hold, I doubt you’ll find a book more interesting.”

You smiled at him. “My stories are hardly more interesting than the words you inspire in your dreamers.”

“On the contrary,” he insisted, the closeness of him making it hard to ignore his strong jaw and his perfectly shaped lips. “I would rather listen to your stories than hear that of the greatest dreamers.”

“Is it my stories that interest you, or my voice?” You teased.

“Can it not be both?”

A blush rose to your cheeks as you glanced away. “I suppose it could be.”

His cold fingers stroked down your cheek and curled around your chin, carefully turning your face back towards his. Your breath caught in your throat as he watched you. Those beautiful eyes you’d come to love so much focused on every part of your face before he spoke, “You are beautiful, Daunt. More beautiful than any book or dream I could ever inspire or create.”

“You give yourself too little credit.”

“You are the one that is not given enough credit,” he replied as your faces drifted closer.

It was a featherlight touch of your lips against his, so light you couldn’t consider it a kiss. After the spark of the sudden contact faded, you found yourself being pulled in closer until Dream's lips pressed fully to yours. All the air left your lungs as you moved with him, your hands fisting in his dark cloak and sliding up to feel the softness of his skin under your fingertips. Dream released your chin, only to cup the back of your neck and angle your head up giving him the access he needed to deepen the kiss.

All around you warmth spread and the sound of petals opening echoed in your ears until you had to pull away. Breathlessly you looked around, eyes wide and nearly full of tears at the sight of your garden full of blooming flowers of every size and color. Dream chuckled, pressing his lips to your jaw for a short moment. “That was unexpected.”

You looked back at him and smiled, cupping his face in your hands. “They’re beautiful, thank you.”

“I did nothing,” he replied. “This realm is yours. It is your power they bent to, not mine.”

Deep in your chest, your heart soared. Desires words were long forgotten as you curled into the chilled arms of the Dream King and admired your garden.

*

Weeks passed since you shared your first kiss with Dream of the Endless. It was odd, to say the least, but changed little between the two of you. Neither of you would admit that you craved to kiss again… that you craved to do more than just kiss, and so you spent your time together awkwardly talking about anything and everything else. The two of you had begun to spend more time among company to avoid things growing awkward, but this meant that you both had to suffer the looks from Lucienne. The ones that dripped with sarcasm and a silent but still somehow audible Are the two of you serious? Every accidental touch felt like fire on your skin and left you a blushing mess.

The only moments of reprieve from this were with The Corinthian, who’d heard of your kiss and immediately dry heaved. The two of you alone were fine, but when Dream joined the picture the tension between the two put both of them in a foul mood. For a split second, you’d entertained the thought that Dream was… jealous of your closeness with his nightmare, but that had dissipated quickly. Dream of the Endless jealous? Absolutely not.

In recent days Dream was on edge. He was constantly busy with work and often had no more than a few moments to spend with you before he had to leave. Those short moments were tense in every sense and made you feel guilty for being here and bothering him. No matter how many times he assured you that it was not your doing, you still felt this weight settle in your gut. You’d known the Endless being for a very long time, and for most of that the two of you were not exactly on good terms, so you were used to his short temper and the sometimes harshness in his words, but unlike before he always apologized to you. While he was busy you spent more time with The Corinthian, hoping if you kept the nightmare busy enough he’d not be able to contribute to Dream's stress.

“Stop that,” you scolded, picking the little flower out of The Corinthian’s hands as he tore the petals off.

He sighed. “It’s a flower, Daunty, not some little pixie.”

You settled back into his side. “Flowers are living things of their own. Especially the ones that grow here. I doubt Fiddler’s Green appreciates your manhandling of the flora.”

“Well it’s a good thing Fiddler's Green is nothing more than grass and dirt then, isn’t it?”

The grass bent away from him at his words and the ground beneath him puffed out, creating uncomfortable lumps where he sat. The Corinthian groaned and stood up, stomping the ground. You laughed running your fingers through the silky blades of grass. “I don’t think Fiddler’s Green appreciates your sarcasm.”

Once the lumps evened out The Corinthian sat back down. “Fucking ridiculous.”

“Lighten up,” you said, bumping him with your shoulder. “If you’d be a little nicer then maybe you’d have more friends than just me.”

“Nice isn’t in my nature,” he insisted tilting his shades down. 

You touched his cheek. “You’re nice to me.”

“You’re the exception, not the rule fair lady.” He turned his gaze away from you again and that wave of discontent washed over you.

Laying your head on his shoulder you sighed. “I adore you, Corinthian.”

He chuckled and laid his head on top of yours. “Yeah, me too Daunty.”

The two of you rested beneath the trees of Fiddler’s Green for a long while until The Corinthian had to return to his duties, or simply wished to cause trouble before night fell. This time, however, it was Dream that interrupted the two of you. His hands were clasped behind his back as he stood in front of his nightmare, eyes dark and body tense. “Corinthian, you have duties to attend to.”

“Do I?” Your friend questioned with a wide grin. “My apologies, your majesty. I shall attend them at once.”

He turned and smiled down at you, tipping his hat. “Lady Daunt.”

You pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Dear Corinthian. Do try to behave.”

Standing, almost toe to toe with Dream the nightmare laughed. “But of course.”

Dream did not relax, not even when the nightmare left the meadow. “You should mind him more carefully.”

“What?”

“The Corinthian is my most fearsome nightmare, not a pet for you to play with.” He hissed. “His duties and his function are more important than you know.”

You blinked, slightly shocked by his ornery behavior. “I do not need a lecture on the importance of one's functions. I’ve done nothing to disrupt his duties.”

“You’ve done more than you think,” he replied, looking away in the direction his nightmare left. With a sigh, he returned his gaze to you. “I have a meeting with an old friend. I trust you’ll be alright here while I am gone.”

Still slightly upset by his ever-darkening mood and flippant temper you merely nodded. “Of course, I will be.”

“I shall return soon.” He bowed his head and turned on his heel, leaving you behind and alone in the meadow. 

As you remained the tension slowly drained from you and once again you were content to relax against the tree. It was difficult for you, seeing Dream in such a foul mood. Though you knew it was not aimed at you, per se, and was the cause of stresses he dealt with during his own duties seeing him in such a way always made you fearful. You heard the sharp sound of twigs snapping and there, across the way a tall buck stood watching you.

It was a beautiful beast, tall with ornate antlers and a deep rich coat of brown and tan. It sniffed the air of Fiddler’s Green for a moment before it bent its head down to nip at the grass below. A deep sense of wonder filled you, pulling you up from your spot and easing you forward, toward the creature. As you got closer it lifted its head up and huffed a hot breath in your face. 

“Easy,” you whispered. “I won’t hurt you.”

For a minute the both of you paused, watching one another closely until you lifted your hand toward it. A beat passed before the buck lifted its snout to your open hand and a rush of joy filled your lungs. You laughed softly, stroking its snout gently as the fur began to turn white beneath your palm. As it spread, filling the coat of the creature you smiled. The buck settled onto the ground and laid its head in your lap, groaning in pleasure when you’d scratch a certain spot. 

The sun had finally set and the stars filled the sky as you watched the gentle creature. “White looks lovely on you.”

Hours passed and the creature remained at your side. You were excited to show Dream that such a magnificent beast did not fear you and had relaxed at your side, but when The Dreaming quaked and the night sky clouded over with darkness and rain your excitement quickly shifted to worry. A few moments later you could see the blazing flames at his feet and the glowing eyes of Dream of the Endless fix upon you.

“What happened?” You asked, concerned that his meeting had gone poorly.

“What did you do?” Was his reply as his eyes fixed on the creature now looking up at him startled.

You stroked a comforting hand down its snout. “He came from the woods to graze and trusted me to come close.”

Shadow and flame seethed over his stiff form as his wide, watery eyes looked at his creation, now snowy white, and venom filled his voice as he stalked forward. "What have you done?"

"I did nothing," you whispered.

"Was it not your touch that did this?" He spat, gesturing to the buck, an action that caused it to rise from your lap and skirt backward.

You too recoiled slightly, before standing and reaching out toward him. “Morpheus I… I’m sorry I didn’t think-”

His hand gripped yours tightly, squeezing until you could feel the bones groan and grind together beneath the skin. “That is the problem! You didn’t think! It is your lack of thought that causes The Corinthian to act out, to challenge and defy me.”

The Corinthian? You shook your head as tears welled in your eyes. “I haven’t said anything to him about defiance. Morpheus, please let me -”

“No.” He said, voice low and rumbling like thunder. "Everything you touch spoils… Everything you speak to is corrupted by your words. All of this is your doing. Another burden upon my shoulders for me to remedy."

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you looked at him, regarding you with the same expression he had for so long before. Dream looked at you now as though you were nothing... Nothing more than a burden. You were prepared for this, weren't you? How many years had you spent by his side fearing this exact thing? 

It wasn't real… And perhaps it never had been.

You bowed your head, steeling your emotions. "Fear not, Dream Lord, I'll not make such mistakes again."

His eyes softened slightly, but Dream did not relent, he could not. He kept his head held high as you turned away and when he felt you vanish from his realm he kept it there. Dream did not listen to Lucienne's quiet concerns, nor did he permit Jessamy to speak on the matter. Whether he believed it was your fault or not mattered little now. What was done was done and now there was only the way forward.

All while you walked alone to your hut you heard Desire's voice echo all around you, the forest darker than it had ever been, the restlessness within it unending as the tiny specks of sunlight vanished. "Never his equal."

The flowers that had begun to grow along the path and beyond it wilted as you passed by. "My big brother will never change."

The mist curled around you, heavy and cold. "I hope you'll remember how I tried to warn you."

Nothing felt like yours anymore, not The Forest, the paths he'd treaded beside you just days ago. Not your hut, the soft cushioned surfaces he'd sat by your side and stroked your cheek free of tears. Not your clothes, the multitude of soft clothes he'd made and gifted to you. Not your collection of trinkets, the ones you'd placed in his hands and shared your stories with him. 

All of it everywhere was filled with echoes of him, his scent, his power, his lies. With a strangled noise, you tore it all apart, throwing every last trinket and piece of furniture until only the broken pieces lay around you. Your hand curled around the shaping stone, the last surviving thing that hummed with dreams. 

You lifted your arm, anger and hate filling your lungs as you prepared to throw it, shatter it and free yourself from the torturous presence it held. The pulse of life in your hand stopped you. It was a piece of something young and innocent and new. A life yet unlived. And there beside that, it held a piece of him, of star-filled skies, of moonlight paths and music and dancing. The part of Dream that had made you feel seen… That made you feel beautiful and worthy. It held Morpheus the being you had foolishly fallen in love with.

With a harsh sob, you lowered your arm, cradling the stone to your chest as you fell to the ground and wept. Warmth filled your hand as the stone spurred to life. "You know how this will end, don't you Mistake?"

*

Dream looked at the stained glass depiction of his nightmare looming over his throne, holding his helm tightly in his hands. He’d spent months listening to The Corinthians ever increasing words of defiance and outbursts, but he never truly thought the nightmare would go so far. It was easy to pinpoint the event that resulted in such unruly behavior, the two were always close. Daunt had not returned to The Dreaming since that night in Fiddler’s Green. He’d not locked the doors or banished her from his realm, yet there was still no sight of her, not even on the beaches or the pier.

Of course, he hadn’t been looking for her. Part of him still felt so angry at Hob Gadlings' accusations of needing companionship and at Daunt’s unexpected changing of one of his creatures, however unintentional it was. But it was not his anger that barred him from seeking Daunt out, it was his shame. How long had he nurtured the trust between them? How long had he wanted for her to feel comfortable enough to reach out and touch his creations, interact with his world in full only to punish her the moment she actually did it? Shame disguised as pride was a dangerous and horrible thing.

“My Lord?” Lucienne’s tentative voice broke him away from his thoughts and brought him back to the matter at hand. The Corinthian loose in the Waking World. His grip on his helm tightened. “Could you not… perhaps call upon Lady Daunt to follow after The Corinthian? The two were friends-”

“No.” He ground his teeth together. “This does not concern her.”

“You are coming back, aren’t you?”

Jessamy cawed at his feet. “Why would I not return, Lucienne?”

“I don’t know, a presentiment. As powerful as you are here, in your realm, dreams rarely survive in the Waking World.” He donned his helm and poured the sand from his pouch into the palm of his hand, feeling it swirl at his feet as his librarian continued. “Nightmares, on the other hand, seem to thrive there.”

*

“Here in the Darkness.” The disembodied voices echoed through the darkness that settled over your realm as bodies of shadow, creatures of hollow dreams, and rouge nightmares roamed your woods freely. At first, you thought this to be some punishment of Dreams, but The Forest cried out louder. “Here in the darkness.” 

A shadow lunged for you, caught by the vines of the trees and dragged away before it could touch you. Another followed, scratching at your feet for a short moment before a flash of white leaped down and the sharp teeth closed around its throat with a sickening crunch. The white wolf looked up at you, deep blue eyes wide with worry. “Are you harmed, my lady?”

“No,” you assured the creature with a gentle touch. “I am fine, Sirius.”

Blue eyes flared to the remained shadows that the mist held at bay. “What are these creatures?”

You shook your head, examining them from your safe place. “Old shadows, spirits that were lost to The Forest long ago… though some are Nightmares.”

“Nightmares?”

“Yes, beings belonging to The Dreaming and to the Dream Lord.”

“He dares invade our realm?”

A chill ran up your spine and the ground quaked beneath you. “Here in the darkness.”

“No,” you whispered. “I fear this is something far more sinister.”

You hadn’t planned on returning to The Dreaming, not this soon at least, but your realm cried out and writhed in pain. The only one that could be responsible was Dream and so there you were, standing before the Gates of Horn and Ivory. Something was wrong. The sky was dull and the sand felt like it was a breath away from falling into nothingness. You reached up, but before you could even touch the gates they shook and groaned, opening of their own accord to reveal the lush forests and beautiful trees dead. All green was gone, replaced by black decay and crumbling stone. 

There were very few Dreams and Nightmares in the town, all of them growing void of color and joy. The bridge to the palace quaked beneath your feet as you strode through the front doors of the palace and looked upon the empty throne. “Dream Lord?”

Sirius fell into place beside you, looking at the dull blue room warily. “This is the great palace of Dreams?”

“Dream?” You called again, louder this time.

“Daunt?” Lucienne’s voice replied as she hurried around the corner and smiled sadly. “Oh, my lady!”

You caught her in a tight hug. “What’s happened?”

She shook her head, tears forming behind her glasses. “Lord Morpheus… He’s missing.”

“Missing?” Memories of Destructions unexpected departure resurfaced. “When? Where?”

“A month ago…” She bowed her head. “Everyone else has given up hope… they say he has abandoned us as Destruction did his realm.”

You shook your head, a soft gasp escaping from your lips. “No. He wouldn’t do that.”

Lucienne’s eyes widened as she clutched the book she held to her chest. “Do you suppose this has something to do with The Corinthian?”

“The Corinthian?” Pain filled every breath you took. “It is your lack of thought that causes The Corinthian to act out, to challenge and defy me.”

“Yes, Lord Morpheus went to the Waking World to retrieve him.” Lucienne grimaced. “He fled to the Waking World and began… overstepping.”

"Everything you touch spoils… Everything you speak to is corrupted by your words. All of this is your doing. Another burden upon my shoulders for me to remedy." He had been right. You had done this… Had twisted his greatest creation with your touch and words… had caused him to flee his role. Is this what happened to Destruction as well? Was this part of your curse upon the universe?

Sirius nudged you, a soothing gesture he often did when you froze. “My lady, we should return to The Forest.”

You shook your head again, fighting back tears. “No. If Dream’s disappearance has caused such a disturbance there it will not be remedied until he returns.”

“What shall we do then?”

“Where was The Corinthian last? If I can find him perhaps he will lead me to Dream.”

Lucienne nodded, quickly consulting the book in her hands. “London. Here is the address. Please, my lady Daunt…” She let loose a shaking breath. “Bring him home. I know the two of you have been… distant… but-”

You set your hand on her shoulder and smiled. “I will bring him back, I swear it.”

*

You’d spent weeks in the Waking World, searching the streets of London for The Corinthian or Dream, yet found nothing. Sirius had been traveling back and forth between London and The Dreaming and The Forest, as you tried desperately to keep things from falling apart. Without Dream, you could always hear the desperate voices of the dreamers crying out, pained and broken as they pleaded with any god or being that would listen. It made sleep elude you, made every waking moment a never-ending nightmare. You had to find him.

Sirius vanished into the mist, back to The Forest where more creatures tore down barrier after barrier and threatened to take over your realm entirely. Everything was twisted and mangled and reeked of Despair. Whether the Endless twins had anything to do with this you still didn’t know, but you would find out one way or another after you found Dream.

You’d traveled further out of the town than normal, and made your way to a bridge that by the look of it led to some kind of house, a manor perhaps. For a moment you stood still, resting your hand on the edge of the bridge as the water echoed through your ears. You should have felt him, his power or presence, something. But there was nothing, only the river, the bridge, and the breeze. Just as you were about to turn around you heard it, a distant caw and the desperate beating of wings. 

A voice. Jessamy. “Daunt!” Another caw echoed as you lifted your eyes to the sky, hope unfurling in your chest. “Daunt!”

“Jessamy!” You cried out, taking a half-step forward.

“NO!” The bird called out, trying to fly faster.

You were about to ask her what was wrong, what had happened, and where Dream was, but a calm hand resting on your shoulder stopped you. “I was hoping you’d give up, Daunty.”

“Corinthian?” You breathed turning to face your friend, but it was not your friend you laid eyes on… only the nightmare. The sting of steel tearing through your chest was unexpected and far more painful than you thought it would be. Gasping you looked down at the blade, at the blood that now stained your white dress, and at the shaking hand that held the hilt of the knife. 

"I'm sorry Daunt…" The Corinthians' lips quivered, and his blade dug deeper into your chest. "But I can't let you free him."

You cupped his cheek, tears streaming down your face as one last cold breath slid past your lips, "My dear Corinthian..."

Jessamy’s screams and desperate caws echoed in your ears as you stumbled back from the nightmare. You fell over the edge of the stone bridge and down into the cold depths below. As you sank further and further down the water turned red before your eyes and a strong current pulled at your limp body, dragging you back toward the surface. The familiar misty canopy of the great tree greeted you, but The Forest groaned and the ground shook beneath you. Your body burned as the frost-ridden mist settled lower and the water that now flooded the roots of the great tree began to rise.

A dark figure appeared in the mist, walking languidly toward you while clapping slowly. “My, my, what a sorry sight you make.”

Desire. Their golden eyes appeared first, then the wide red Cheshire smile you loathed so much. The Forest grew louder as the leaves on the trees began to shake and shift from their mystic dark emerald to poisoned, rotted scarlet. The Endless bent over and took your chin in their hand. “I did tell you this would happen, didn’t I?”

You drew a deep, stuttered breath, “Leave.”

“Oh, little Mistake,” they purred. “It’s not very polite to bite the hand that’s here to save you.”

Save you? Pain flared in your chest and the roots of the trees began to move, drawing you in. Desire made a face, shifting to accommodate the wood before returning their burning eyes to you. “I can heal you, take you far from this dying little realm of yours and give you all your pathetic little heart desires. All I ask in return is that when the time comes you’ll help me bring my big brother to his knees.”

Even weak, dying, you scoffed. “I… Would rather die than betray Dream.”

“He has already betrayed you, Mistake.” Their grip on your chin grew tighter. “You are nothing to him. A burden he must shoulder. I could give you a grand palace, subjects to rule and worship you, a crown of gold and rubies. Everything you desire can be yours.”

“No,” You whispered in response. No matter how grand a kingdom Desire gave you, no matter how many subjects they offered or gold or rubies it would never be what you wanted, what you craved and desired with all of your being. 

Love. It was all you wanted since the beginning of your life. For so long all you’d desired was someone to love you as you loved them… though back then you didn’t know the true depth of it. Back then you couldn’t have known that it was Dream you’d wanted to love you. Desire scowled at you and gripped the knife, still lodged into your chest, twisting as they spoke. “Stupid, idiotic, pathetic thing! Who are you to refuse my generosity? You are nothing but a mistake! You are a burden!”

They pulled the dagger out of your chest and lifted it, poised and ready to deal the final blow when Sirius leaped from the mist with an angry growl, latching onto Desire's wrist and forcing them to the ground. You could hear the struggle between the wolf and the Endless being, but you were too weak to aid your companion. A loud whimper and a booming frustrated cry echoed in the air before you felt Desire’s foreboding presence vanish from your world. Sirius returned to your side, one of his bright blue eyes now marred with a deep cut. 

��My lady,” he whispered, lifting himself up to press a paw to your still bleeding wound. “How can I help you… What must I do?”

Redwater sloshed beneath you as the roots of the trees continued to groan and twist around you. “Stay. Stay beside me until the end.”

Sirius curled into your side, burying his snout into the crook of your neck. “Always, my lady.”

Frost settled onto the trees and moss as snow began to fall from the darkened sky. The mist grew thicker as darkness descended on The Forest. Above the cracking of the tree roots and the rushing water and the sinister whispers the saddened, fearful whines of a loyal companion could be heard through every dream and nightmare. All would hear your quiet labored breaths and feel the cold overtake your skin. All but the man with stars in his eyes trapped behind the glass. All but Dream of the Endless.

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden

Part 4

Part 3 | Part 5

TW: fluff, yall finally get to experience some full happiness which is totally not gonna get ripped away 💀, mutual pining, some slight angst

You looked at the blue stone, tentatively stroking a finger down the smooth shimmering edge. It had been a few years since he'd given it to you... Since Dream of the Endless had shown you a side of him you'd never seen before, had never known existed. You'd been to The Dreaming many times since that night, but you'd never ventured closer to the gate, still afraid that it would remain closed to you and that the whole thing had been nothing more than a long game. So you and Puck sat on the beach, watched the sunrise, and returned to The Forest. You'd done it so many times without a word from Dream that you were almost scared to face him now.

As the days passed you wandered closer and closer to the gate, slowly building up the courage to pass through it until you finally stood right in front of it, looking up. The Corinthian, who'd spent so much time on the beaches waiting for you to come closer had grown rather tired of being patient, groaned beside you, and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, holding you in place as the gates began to open. He practically dragged you inside the second there was enough room for the two of you. "Been watching you walk around for years, time to commit Daunt!"

"Corinthian!" You growled as he howled with laughter.

The Gates of Horn and Ivory lay open before you, revealing the bright sun shining off the golden peaks of Dreams palace. Lush green forests and the life of every species natural and imagined filled the space between. It was beautiful. Open and free and bright, the air was clean and the sky was clear. For the first time in a long while you could see the blue of it, the soft puffy clouds that changed shapes above your head, and the birds that flew happily past. The Corinthian squeezed you into his side. "So, how does it feel to be in The Dreaming finally?"

"It's wonderful," you answered with a hidden smile. "Everything is so bright and clear."

He chuckled. "You'll get sick of it eventually."

You shook your head at him. "Never. I've spent far too long in The Forest to ever grow tired of a place like this."

"It's not as free as it looks," he merely said as you walked. "Lots of rules to abide by and never anything fun to do."

"Are you speaking for me or yourself?" You wondered looking up at him with a grin.

"A bit of both I'd like to think."

There was a tenseness in your friend's tone that made your eyebrow rise a bit. "You're just upset that Dream doesn't allow troublemakers to do whatever they please."

He smiled. "You're also a troublemaker, do you plan on following his stifling rules left and right?"

"He is the monarch of this realm," you stated. "And I am a guest. I must abide by his rules if I ever wish to return."

"And do you?"

"Of course." You looked at everything around you with a sigh. "I've been forbidden from entering for so long... It is nice to have somewhere else to go when things in The Forest grow too dark. Besides, if I'm welcome to return I get to see you more often."

The nightmare nodded slowly, his grin remaining but something felt wrong about it. "That is a rather strong argument. Just... Promise me you'll cause a bit of trouble now and then. Don't want you to get boring like everyone else."

Rolling your eyes you nodded. "I promise."

The Corinthian led you through the town, past the hushed whispers of Dreams subjects, and toward the bridge to the palace. Your nervousness returned as you looked up at the magnificent creatures guarding the gate. Puck moved ahead of you, yellow eyes warily watching everything you passed. "Dream will want to see you, likely to waste your time with a tour."

"That would hardly be a waste," you said quietly. "After all I've only seen glimpses of this place."

"Eh, you've probably seen enough to get the picture." He gave you a mocking bow and smirked. "Enjoy your audience with the great king, fair Daunt. If you can slip away, come  find me and I'll give you the fun tour."

You chuckled at the nightmare and pressed your hand to his cheek. "Try not to have too much fun without me, dear Corinthian."

He scoffed, laying a hand playfully on his chest. "I could never!"

The throne room looked different than the last time you saw it. The space that had once been full of life and dancing and laughter was now little more than a cold, space that mirrored the Dream you’d known for centuries. The Dream that had been nothing but cold and cruel to you since you could remember and not the one you’d seen that night. White marble glowed beneath the rainbow light from the vast ceiling of stars and galaxies above you as you walked deeper into the silent space. There at the top of the window ding stairs was his throne. It was odd… Not as grand or as large as you'd imagined it to be all these years.

Puck sniffed the ground and plopped down beside you. "I don't like it here. Everything smells different."

"Is it so different from the beach?"

"Yes." Your companion insisted. "Smells like him."

You hummed, giggling softly as you leaned down to scratch behind his ear. "Ahh yes, and we both know how much you detest the smell of the horrid Dream Lord."

"Horrid?" The voice smooth as the finest silks and deep as rolling thunder filled your ears, sending waves of conflicting emotions over you. The throne room felt smaller as you turned your head to gaze upon him. Dream stood between two large pillars, the black of his cloak standing out harshly against the cool stone, flames licking at his feet. Jessamy perched on his shoulder and his hands twisted behind his back as his glowing eyes regarded your companion with a look.

Puck growled lowly, baring his teeth to the dark figure, and curled around your feet slightly. "I would have used a far more insulting choice of words Nightmare King."

"Manners Puck," you chided softly. "We are guests after all."

Dreams eyes lifted to yours, bright and warm… An odd thing where the Endless was concerned. You'd never seen him like this, so calm in your presence and it was terrifying. He bowed his head slightly and gifted you a thin smile. "You look well, Lady Daunt."

Lady. Your mind echoed with the word. He'd called you the formal title before, all those years ago on the pier bathed in starlight. You'd forgotten how it sounded, the honey-sweetened sincerity, the low almost desperate timber of his voice… As if he were pleasing you to believe him, to forgive. Yet the memory of those hands curled around your throat remained. You returned his gesture, stiff, uncertain. "As do you, Dream of the Endless."

A look, swift and fleeting, passed over his face… hurt. He straightened and looked about his throne room. "What do you think of my realm so far?"

"I've seen little of it," you reply. The cosmos swirling above your head once again caught your eyes before you looked to his throne. It reminded you of your place, of how little your words mean to one such as he. "What I have seen is beautiful, as your creations always are."

He hummed, moving silently to stand closer to you, as close as Puck would allow. "High praise from one whose realms beauty rivals that of mine."

You almost laughed at him. The Forest was dark and clouded in mist. Its woods echoed with desperate cries of frustration and sorrow and it bent to none, not even you. "You need not attempt to flatter me."

"I am not." Dream said. "Your realm is beautiful in its own right, in a way I could never recreate… Much like you are."

Your head turned quickly, eyes wide as his words settled against your skin like pinpricks of knives. Was he mocking you? Trying to bait you into some kind of cruel game? Yet there was nothing, save the gentle gleam in his eyes and the thin smile on his lips, nothing that indicated the words were said with malice. So, you cast your eyes away. "Thank you."

Jessamy cawed from her master's shoulder. "What do you want to see first, Lady Daunt? There is much within The Dreaming to see!"

"I don't know."

"Well, surely you've thought about your visit a few times."

You looked to the floor. "I suppose I never thought I'd get to see any of it."

Jessamy made a quiet noise as Dreams dark figure appeared to grow taller. Jessamy shook her silky wings. "Why don't we start here then? The Library is just down the hall. Lucienne will certainly want to see you!"

"That sounds lovely." You lifted your head and looked at Dream, whose face had hardened. "If the Dream Lord permits it."

His brows furrowed and lips pursed. "You may go wherever you wish. I meant what I said, Daunt. My realm is open to you."

You watched him closely, still looking for any sign that his sincerity held any manner of falseness. With a tentative nod, you shifted your feet. "Such a thing is… Generous of you, Dream Lord."

Jessamy looked to her master. "So… The library then?"

Dream gestured down the hall and bowed his head slightly. "After you, Lady Daunt."

He could not stop looking at her. No matter how much he tried to go on normally, everything vibrated with just the knowledge that she was here. She'd taken so long to venture even a little close he thought this day would certainly never come. But, here she was, walking beside him to the library, quiet and timid but here.

You honestly didn't know what to expect on this tour, how willing was Dream to let you into his world? Would your presence be confined to the high walls of his palace as if to hide you from the other creatures he ruled over? Would he expect something in return for this kindness, for the supposed freedom to come when you liked? All thoughts faded as the library doors opened and the literal collection of all written creation lay before you.

The trusted Librarian of The Dreaming, Lucienne, was already waiting at the table. She offered you a bright smile and bowed her head to Dream. "Lord Morpheus, Lady Daunt

“Lucienne,” you said with a smile, “It’s good to see you again.”

“You as well, my lady.” She returned the smile. “You look well.”

Jessamy perched on the desk, quietly pecking at a book she appeared to be reading. Dream gestured to the tall shelves. “Every book that was is or will be is here. You are welcome to look through my collection."

Your lips twitched into a tiny smile as you admitted, "I've tried before, one time, while you were away. But to me, they're nothing but blank pages."

"I could read one to you."

The pure genuine nature of his offer made you pause. Your wide eyes met his. "You don't have to do that, I'm certain you have better things to do, more important things..."

With a raised hand he stopped you and gestured to the shelves once again. "I would not have offered it if there were more important things that required my attention. Please, pick whichever one you like."

You hesitated but complied nonetheless. You'd tell yourself it was mere curiosity about the books of otherworldly beauty, but the truth of it was far more simple. You enjoyed this newfound calming presence that Dream was offering, as well as his silken voice. He sat down at the head of the long table and watched you as you searched the endless shelves. After a moment you stood on the tips of your toes and plucked one from the group.

Dream seemed to recognize the rich sapphire bindings immediately and smirked to himself. You narrowed your eyes at the sight of it but still set the book down just close enough that he could reach it. "I enjoy the color."

He regarded your words with a simple nod. "It's a beautiful book. Written by a friend of yours, Will Shakespeare I believe he's called now."

You smiled to yourself. "Will, of course. I suppose you had something to do with his sudden inspiration."

"Perhaps."

"What is it called?"

"A Midsummer Night's Dream." Dream looked at Puck with amusement. "I think you'd companion will enjoy a character or two."

Pick settled on the floor with an unhappy growl. "Unlikely."

"It sounds sad," you mused, taking a seat one chair away from him near the middle of the table.

"I suppose it can be seen that way," he said, stroking his fingers along glittering letters you couldn't see. "Though many would consider it a comedy."

His eyes met yours as you settled into the chair, but he said nothing more, instead, Dream opened the book and began reading. Hours passed, but his voice remained steady, occasionally glancing up to look at you. The story was beautiful, but his voice was more so and after a while you laid your head down on the table, eyes watching Dream with a speck of wonder. Unbeknownst to you, he continued his reading unhindered but the sight of you remained in his mind.

Eventually, when he looked back up your eyes were closed. If he'd not known better he'd have thought you to be asleep. You looked peaceful, something he'd not seen… Something he'd actively prevented in the past. "Why did you stop?" Your eyes didn't open.

He smiled, just a little. "Apologies, I was lost in thought."

You hummed softly. "You don't have to continue if you don't want to."

"I don't mind, though you seem to have grown less interested."

Your eyes opened slightly as you smiled at him. A real smile, the first he'd ever recieved. "On the contrary, I am very invested. Your voice is beautiful, relaxing."

He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat as he lifted the book to shield his face from your view. "Very well, I'll continue."

You chuckled to yourself. "I'm still listening, I promise."

*

When you’d asked to visit the brothers and their beloved gargoyle, Dream had been glad to grant the request. He walked beside you the whole way and even remained as the two bickering brothers gave you tours of each of their houses. It was different, being so close to him without hearing a word of insult or complaint. It was… nice. You played with Gregory while Cain and Abel spoke to Dream about some Dreaming matter or another. Gregory was always one of your favorites of Dreams creations, though you could never understand how such a gentle and adorable creature had ever been a nightmare. 

You bid them farewell, promising to return for tea as soon as you were able to before falling into step beside Dream as he led the way back toward the village of his creations. "It's odd seeing you like this."

"Like what?" Dream questioned with a side glance your way.

You shook your head and tried your best not to feel the tingling his gaze brought to your skin. "So… Content."

Dreams eyes narrowed, "Content?"

"I don't know how to describe it," you laughed. "You're just… Different."

"I suppose it's not untrue. You've not known me to be very content in our past meetings." He sighed a quiet sound that you weren't entirely sure you'd heard. It appeared as if he wished to speak more, but his lips remained tightly shut as the two of you continued to walk down the wooded path.

When Dream had to step away to deal with something you sat on the bridge and looked out at the gorgeous orange and yellow hues of the setting sun. It was so beautiful here, so different from the mist and darkness you’d grown used to. It was almost too beautiful… like you were just dreaming and would soon have to wake up.

“There she is, the grand Lady Daunt,” a familiar voice teased as The Corinthian leisurely walked across the bridge to stand beside you. “Dream finally let you go free?”

“He’s taking care of some business,” you said, smiling. “I’ve been instructed to wait for him to finish.”

The Corinthian smirked and shook his head. “Still following the rules?”

You nodded, returning your gaze to the sun. “Of course I am. I told you, I want to be able to come back after this visit.”

He huffed. “I guess I won’t pretend to understand why you’re willing to be so buddy-buddy with him.”

“He’s the monarch of this realm, one I have to deal with quite often.” You sighed. “I’m tired, Corinthian. Tired of fighting with him at every turn.”

“Fighting with him is fun though,” your friend insisted, his head turning to look at a dreamer wandering over the bridge, standing just off to the side of you and Corinthian, looking around with his mouth hanging open at the glorious sight of The Dreaming.

You watched him closely as he forced his head to turn back to you. “Fighting with him is tedious, especially when I'm just trying to do my job.”

He shrugged. “But you’re like him, Daunt. Powerful.”

“I’m not an Endless, Corinthian,” you reminded him. “I’m not as powerful as him, nor as, well, endless.”

“You haven’t even tried to be,” he nearly hissed, frustration and anger suddenly filling his voice as his eyes drifted behind you to look at the dreamer again.

The Corinthian turned his head away from you and the dreamer, a scowl setting his lips into a frown. You tilted your head to look around him better, "Are you jealous?"

"Of Dream?" He scoffed. "Never."

"Not of Dream," you clarified glancing at the dazed dreamer. "Of them."

His face softened, a realization overtaking him as he watched the human. "I… I don't…" He turned his head back to face you. "They're accepted for who they are no matter how ugly or terrifying they can be. I… I want that. I want to feel, to experience what they do. To be accepted… Flaws and all."

You touched his cheek with a soft smile. "I accept you, Corinthian just as you are. Beautiful and terrifying and everything in between."

He leaned into your touch with a sigh. "I know you do, Daunt." There was still much restlessness in him, you could feel it, but before you could inquire more he straightened his stance and bowed tipped his hat to you with a tight grin. "Duty calls."

You watched him walk away for a moment, worry building up inside you at his odd behavior as of late, but the loud caw of Jessamy as she flew down to perch beside you shook you from your thoughts. She bowed her small head as Dream slowly made his way toward you, calm and unreadable as he always was. “Is it time I take my leave, Dream Lord?”

He shook his head. “You may stay as long as you wish to, Lady Daunt. Though I have one last location I wish to show you.”

“Very well,” you said, trying to mask your relief that he’d not come to kick you out.

The two of you walked in silence, trees, and hills of wildflowers passing by as you entered a wooded area. It reminded you of The Forest, but what you’d always longed for it to be. Animals darted through the site, butterflies flew from flower to flower and a warm comforting silence filled the space. Here there was no mist, no echoes of haunted dreamers' desperate pleas, nothing save the sound of rushing water as you near a small lake and waterfall. “It’s beautiful here.”

“This is Fiddlers Green,” Dream stated. “The jewel of my realm.”

“And a grand jewel it is, Dream Lord.”

His head tilted slightly as he looked at you, the now rising moonlight casting an ethereal glow on his pale skin. “Why do you not call me by my name?”

You’d long heard that Dream had enjoyed being called Morpheus, a name you did not know if he was gifted at the beginning of his life, or later by the humans. “I did not think I was allowed to.”

Dream nodded, his lips pursing. “You are. I… I would prefer you call me my name.”

“If that is your wish, Lord Morpheus.”

A soft smile and a light breath escaped him. “Would you dance with me?”

“Dance?” You asked, taken aback by his request. “There’s no music.”

“An easy thing to remedy.”

With little more than a gesture the meadow filled with soft echoes of music. It was almost surreal, the soft melody was familiar somehow. You blushed a little as you looked at your dirty and tattered gown. “I’m afraid I’m not dressed for a dance with a king.”

He chuckled softly. “Another thing easily remedied.”

The gown that settled against your skin at the King of Dreams will was familiar, the one he’d gifted you for the ball. Your hands slid against the soft fabric as you looked up at him with a tiny smile. “I did not think you would reuse a design. Have you run out of ideas?”

“Perhaps I simply wished to see you in this particular gown again.” He bowed his head a little and lifted his hand toward you. “And share a dance with you as I should have that night.”

Your heartbeat echoed in your ears as you took his hand, chills spreading up your arm and down your spine at the cold feel of his silken skin. “I suppose I should grant you such a simple request. You’ve given me a far greater one today.”

As the two of you swept off into a light and gentle dance he said, “I should have gifted it to you long ago.”

“I am simply glad to be here now.” You smiled at him, an action that caused his eyes to fix on your lips.

You didn’t know how long the two of you spent dancing in the beautiful fields of Fiddlers Green, but with each passing moment, the space between you grew smaller and smaller until you were right in front of him, looking up into the sparkling starlit eyes of the Dream Lord. It was so easy getting lost within them, lost within him, that you’d almost not heard the echoes of the dreamers. The two of you shared a breath as the urge to fill the space between your lips grew near unbearable. The echoes grew louder and louder until mist began to fill the fields and the trees began to shift closer together and grow darker. The Forest was calling you home.

“Forgive me,” you whispered. “My realm can be… temperamental at times.”

He looked around with a soft sigh. “So it seems. I’ve… enjoyed our time together, Lady Daunt.”

“As have I, Lord Morpheus.”

“Will you return?”

You smiled, the closeness neither of you had corrected growing almost comfortable. “Do you want me to return?”

“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate.

“Then I will,” you said softly. “Perhaps next time we can dance again?”

Dream’s smile was something that took you off guard. It was larger, far more noticeable than any of the others he’d given you that day. “I would cherish the chance to dance with you again.”

“Until then,” you pulled away from him, Puck’s glowing eyes waiting for you at the edge of the misty treeline. “Morpheus.”

“Until then, Daunt.”

You and Puck vanished in the trees, reentering your darkened realm with an erratic heartbeat and light flush to your skin. Puck had been inquisitive, asking you questions about what you’d gotten up to while he explored the odd-smelling realm on his own, which only made you blush harder at the memories of such intimate moments you’d shared with the Endless being. As the two of you found the path you nearly gasped at the sight of specks of white lining it. 

Flowers. The pathway was lined with small white flowers. You knelt to inspect them, careful not to be too rough with your featherlight touch. “Were these here before we left?”

“I do not believe they were.”

“How did they come to be?” You wondered as lights flickered above your head, shining softly down on the forest floor. You looked up and nearly sobbed at the sight of the tiny insects floating around you, weaving between the trees and lighting the misty forest.

Puck's nose twitched as he sniffed the small creatures cautiously. "What are they?"

"Fireflies," you breathed, lifting your hand to the air, now filled with brilliant twinkling lights.

Your companion chased the insects, eyes bright and darting from one to the next as they blinked in and out of visibility. You smiled fully as a warm laugh bubbled up from your chest and for the first time since the creation of the world The Forest was filled with laughter.

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden

Chapter 8: The Mist Waits

Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

I finished earlier than I thought I would, so enjoy the early chapter release y'all!

TW: Violence, confrontations, The Fates, Desire, blood, Dark Daunt, cliffhanger

Rose Walker was having an odd day. So much had happened in such a short time, and the girl wasn’t sure whether the appropriate response would be to cry in joy or to scream in frustration. She had family left, a Great Grandmother that seemed to want the same things that she did. Jed back home and safe, and them to all be a family once again. Now she had the resources to start truly looking for her brother and, hopefully, to bring him home once and for all.

“I’ll just get Lyta. Be right back,” Rose said in answer to one of the new people added to her odd little circle.

“Rose,” a voice called out to her, soft and young.

She stopped walking for a moment, quietly questioning whether the voice was in her head or actually coming from within the home. “Rosebud,” another voice said, maternal and warm.

“Rose Walker,” a third replied, cold and older.

She felt afraid and uncertain for a moment as her feet carried her forward to the closest door, the only logical place one could whisper to her from. Once she opened the door, she was greeted by three figures clothed in black.

“Hello, Rosie,” the youngest said. 

The second smiled. “Come in, my butterfly.”

“You are at a crossroads, Rose Walker.”

She tilted her head slightly. “How do you know my name? Who are you?”

“Names, names, names,” the eldest among them said, waving her question away.

The youngest smiled sweetly. “Each name is but a single aspect of the whole.”

“Be satisfied by the trinity you have, love. You wouldn’t want to meet us as The Kindly Ones.”

“We can only caution you, sister.” The youngest looked darker. “We can’t protect you.”

A chill ran up Rose’s spine as she asked, “Protect me from…”

A maternal laugh echoed around her. “From life, my posy.”

“And the things that hover beyond life.”

“Thrashing themselves against it,” the eldest finished.

“Beware dreams,” the youngest whispered. “And houses. And trees.”

The cold voice sighed. “You ask the wrong question.”

“Had you asked the right one, we could have warned you against The Corinthian and the ghost of mist that haunts his steps.” The warm voice said.

“Told you about Jed,” the young voice continued.

“And about Morpheus.”

The light turned on, and the figures vanished before Rose’s eyes, almost as if they’d never been there… and maybe they hadn’t.

*

He stood in the center of the throne room, staring at the steps that Daunt had stood on. Dream had spent every free moment searching for The Forest, to no avail. The realm had either vanished entirely or closed itself off from him, as Daunt had after that day in Fiddler’s Green. Sadly, he was more inclined to believe the latter to be true. His head spun with the sheer number of concerns plaguing him, awaiting to be addressed. Dream of the Endless felt like he had back in the Burgess basement, only somehow worse. He felt he was being pulled in every direction, forced to split his focus between dire events, and feared no matter what he did, one or more would slip through the cracks and result in yet another loss for him to bear.

“My lord,” Lucienne’s soft voice called him from the dark corners of his mind as she approached with a book. “Forgive me for intruding, but I have the volume you requested.”

“Yes,” he sighed, taking the heavy leatherbound book from her hand and moving to sit on the bottom step of the stairs, hoping the vision of her bloodstained gown would fade from memory if he was not looking at them. “I assume it holds nothing of use as all the others.”

His librarian nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid so.”

“Jed Walker is still in the realm of the living, but I cannot find him.”

“No. Nor I, my lord.” She answered.

“All humans are connected to The Dreaming.” He shook his head. “They spend a third of their life here. Breaking that connection would require knowledge. And power.”

“Then it may interest you to know that the last nightmare Jed Walker had before he disappeared was of Gault.”

“You think she severed him from The Dreaming?”

Lucienne nodded. “I do.”

“Why?” He questioned.

“Because he’s not just any child, is he?” She replied. “He’s Rose Walker’s brother. She is the Vortex.”

Quiet footsteps echoed in the empty throne room as a dark figure walked toward them. “Excuse me. I am Rose Walker. What do you know about my brother Jed?”

Lucienne turned to Dream with wide eyes and an open mouth. Daunt’s words echoed in his ears. Sight alone will not tell you her secrets. He stood and smiled. “You are welcome here, Rose Walker.”

She looked around for a moment before asking, “Who are you?”

“You have somehow dreamed your way into an audience with Lord Morpheus. The King of Dreams,” Lucienne answered sternly. “And now you must go.”

“Lucienne.”

His librarian sighed. “She shouldn’t be here.”

He tilted his head slightly. “No, but I should like her to stay.

Rose Walker was indeed the vortex. Dream could feel it swirling around her. Power and mystery and something else, something that felt familiar. Lucienne’s apprehensive demeanor did not shift while Rose stood in his realm. He could not blame her. After all, a Vortex was a volatile and uncertain thing. Matthew agreed to watch over her in the Waking World, and as Rose Walker returned to her bed, Lucienne gave Dream a look. “Are you certain this is wise, my lord?”

“Gault must be found one way or another,” he answered carefully. “Leave Rose Walker to me, Lucienne. In the meantime, continue your search of the library for anything that may lead us to The Forest.”

*

The Corinthian enjoyed tea. He enjoyed the smell of the soft floral notes and earthiness and found the taste to be almost comforting. Though he’d never allow himself to linger on why he enjoyed such things, a lingering nagging voice in the back of his mind told him repeatedly. It reminds you of her. This was, of course, a voice he smothered when he was able. Instead, he smiled beside Unity, listening to her so easily give up the information he needed. It was inconvenient that Rose Walker had returned to America, but The Corinthian didn’t mind much.

If she was the key to his permanent freedom, he’d go to the ends of the earth to find her. Daunt’s white form stood before him, bathed in the light from the window, but that light did not touch her. Instead, she dampened it with her presence alone. “What do you fear more, I wonder? Not finding your vortex in time or having her deny you as all others have.”

As he walked out of the old home, he clenched his jaw at her presence beside him. “Answer me, nightmare.” She insisted. “Answer me, betrayer.”

“I’m not scared of anything,” he spat at her. “Not some fuckin kid, not Dream, and certainly not you.”

Laughter echoed around him as the sky grew dark with storm clouds. He turned to face her, to find her gone once again, but before he could even breathe, he felt her cold hand wrap around his neck. Long nails bit into his skin as she leaned in closely and whispered. “You should fear me, dear Corinthian.”

He tore himself away from her, searching for the white maiden in the open streets. “Mine will be the last face you see.”

*

“My lord,” Lucienne called out as she approached with confident steps. “May I help?”

Hunched over the table, he glanced up at her. “Is this everything we have on Rose Walker?”

She nodded. “And Jes Walker. But I shouldn’t think there’s anything in those you don’t already know. Except perhaps-”

“Except perhaps why she was able to wander into my throne room.” Dream sighed. “What do you think? Why did Gault target her brother and not her?”

“Did you read about Unity Kincaid?” She asked, turning away from him to fetch another book. “The day you were imprisoned, there were people all over the world who fell asleep and could not wake up. Unity Kincaid is the sole survivor of what they called the “sleepy sickness.” The day you returned, she woke up.” She set the book down in front of him. “Rose Walker is her great-granddaughter.”

He hummed. “Which would seem to suggest that my absence caused the birth of a vortex.”

“Is that not a possibility?”

“Vortexes are naturally occurring phenomena,” he stated with a smile. “No one knows why they happen. Not even I know. But I do know they are not caused or created. They simply happen.”

Lucienne’s eyes narrowed as she thought about his words. “Then this is all a coincidence? And not an imminent threat?”

Dream sighed. “My instinct says no, but tonight, when Rose Walker sleeps, I shall see it more clearly. May I?”

Lucienne held up a hand to stop him. “There is something else, my lord.”

“What is it?” He asked, reading the way her face tightened as she spoke.

“I know every book in this library,” she began, turning away from him and retrieving something from a nearby shelf. “I know this library and these books and… yet…” she returned, holding a pale book in her hands and offering it to him with a saddened face. “Somehow, this one has been hidden from me for eons. It should not be possible.”

“And yet it is,” he said, gently running his hands along the white bindings, glistening with jeweled leaves of green. On the first page, The Great Tree was illustrated in deep tones of brown and emerald, surrounded by the smaller trees covered in mist. It was almost as if he could feel the leaves beneath his fingertips and the cold mist caressing his skin. It was almost as if this book was alive.

Lucienne looked at the beautiful thing with fondness and apprehension warring in her eyes. “I’ve tried to read it, but it’s… Incoherent.”

“How so?”

“Most of the pages are blank. There appear to be remnants of words written on some, and other pages or paragraphs are perfectly legible. The words, however, make little sense given all that is missing.” She shook her head and sighed. “Only the illustrations remain intact.”

As Dream flipped through the pages, studying the little words scribed here, he stopped at another picture. Daunt, or rather a drawing of her, white amidst a sea of dark colors. His heart felt heavy in his chest the longer he looked. “This will not tell us where she is.”

Lucienne’s soft eyes met his as she spoke, “No, my lord, it won’t. But…"

“What is it, Lucienne?”

“One of the illustrations seems to depict what happened to her… What kept her from reaching you the day she left.” He handed the book to her instantly. If there was a way to learn what befell her on his behalf, he had to see it. He had to know.

The librarian quickly flipped through the pages before holding the book back to him with downcast eyes. There on the red-stained page were three words… Daunts last words. “My dear Corinthian.” The image showed her standing on a bridge, holding his nightmares cheek as The Corinthian pushed his blade into her chest.

Dream drew in a deep breath as The Dreaming rippled with the rage that filled his heart. “The Corinthian…”

Lucienne bowed her head lower. “It is my fault. I should not have given her his location nor asked her to seek him out.”

“No.” He breathed out, tears welling as his finger glided across the worn page. “The fault lies with me. She would not have been vulnerable had I failed my duty to retrieve the nightmare.”

“My lord…” she whispered. “If this image is corrected, then… is Daunt not… dead?”

“No.” Dream looked up at her, meeting her wet eyes with his own. “Death told me she’d not been called to The Forest for Daunt. Daunt herself told us she was lost.”

Lucienne shook her head. “My lord, that… vision… that apparition spoke in naught but riddles. If it was truly Daunt, then she is not in her right mind.”

“Perhaps she is not,” Dream replied solemnly. “But the fact still stands that she lives. She lives, and I will find her if it is the last thing I do in this existence.”

*

That night he accompanied Rose in her dreams to search for Jed Walker and Gault. That night he had the chance to examine the vortex up close. Dream had expected Rose Walker to be impressive, but the way she adapted to her newfound abilities as a Vortex was surprising, even to him. She found her way through the dreams of those closest to her, following his advice and asking questions, seemingly wanting to learn from him. Most impressive was her ability to stay focused through each dream, never losing sight of her purpose within them and never seeking to abuse the power she held. 

She led him to Gault with ease, and once his nightmare was back within his grasp, he ensured she would not be free to defy him again. He did not regret his harsh punishment of the shapeshifter, but he did feel an unpleasant knot form in his stomach after his less-than-kind treatment of Lucienne after the fact. Still, he moved forward. Too much demanded his attention to focus on keeping his realm safe. The notion of that seemed simple enough until a crack appeared in the stained glass window above his throne, and the entire palace shook violently around him. After that, all he could do was watch in horror as the cracks grew before his very eyes.

“Loosh? You in here?” The pumpkin head made a quiet noise of apprehension. “Sorry, boss, I was just looking for Lucienne. See ya.”

“Wait.” He ordered. “Why were you looking for Lucienne?”

“Oh, well, we just had some minor seismic activity and a little, you know, damage I wanted to report.”

“Then why not report it to me?” He asked.

“Uh, because you’re busy?” Mervyn offered. “While you were away, Lucienne started taking care of that stuff, so I figured why bother you when-”

A dark feeling curled around him, nearly squeezing all the air as he said, “Mervyn if The Dreaming has been damaged in any way, I will be the one to address it.”

The floor shook, and the cracks spread throughout the windows and up the stone walls. “Oh, for crying out loud. Do you want me to fix that for you? Or will it just keep happening?”

“It will not keep happening because I will find the cause of the disturbance, and I will eliminate it. Thank you, Mervyn.”

“Uh, you’re welcome,” the handyman replied before turning and hurrying in the opposite direction. 

Dream returned his eyes to the glass as it continued to crack. He would not watch his realm crumble again. The halls shook around him as he made his way to the library with hopes Lucienne would be able to provide him with some information on these tremors. “Lucienne?”

She stood off to the side, re-shelving books with a slightly pensive face. “My lord.”

“I have come to return these.” He handed her the books, their eyes meeting in an awkward stare. “And to assess the extent of the damage from the recent disturbances.” She said nothing, merely watching him as he bent down and picked up a stack of fallen books. “Have you any idea as to what caused them?”

“I assumed it was you, sir,” she said almost coldly.

“Me?”

“Making further improvements to the realm… now that you’re back.” She clarified as she brushed past him.

Dream sighed quietly. “Lucienne, when we last spoke, I did not mean to imply that your efforts beyond the library are without value.”

“Oh?” She questioned, clearly frustrated.

“I merely wish to relieve you of responsibilities with which, had I been here, you would never have been burdened.”

“I see.”

“And in that time, did you experience any… similar seismic disturbances?” he inquired offhandedly, looking at the book he still awkwardly held, only peeking up at her.

I did not.”

“Have you any… theory as to their origin?” He pressed cautiously.

At last, Lucienne set down the stack of books she held and turned to him. “Speaking strictly as a librarian? I do. But you won’t like it.”

“Go on.”

“I know you’re waiting to see if the vortex will lead you to The Corinthian and Fiddler’s Green. The way she led you to Gualt.”

“She may yet still.”

She scoffed. “Yes, but while you’re waiting, she’s putting cracks in the foundation.”

“Rose Walker has visited this realm before and done no damage,” he pointed out. “This is something else, something new.”

“Perhaps, but if there is something new in The Dreaming and you did not create it, how did it get here?” She asked. “This is the vortex. I assure you.”

As soon as he could, Dream found Rose Walker’s dreams and watched her closely as the landscape marred with cracks and the house he’d not built appeared before him. Lyta Hall was indeed pregnant; by the look of it, she and her dead husband had somehow managed to find a way inside his realm in secret. He would be furious. How could he have been so blind? How could he have allowed a vortex to cause such chaos just to aid him in mending his own troubles?

Matthew cawed beside him. “So, what do you think?”

“Tell Lucienne she was right about the source of the tremors.” Dream ordered. “And that I am taking care of it.”

The raven took to the skies quickly as he moved forward, entering the house with ease and staring down the spirit that had found its way here. He knew, without Dream having to say a single word, the spirit knew that his time here was up.

Lyta and Rose entered, laughing with one another. “Hector, look who’s here.”

Both women slowed as they looked at him. Lytas face was drained of the happiness that had been there moments ago, while Rose looked confused. “Lyta, you remember I told you about Lord Morpheus, the King of Dreams?”

“What do you want?”

“He wants us to leave,” the spirit answered.

Rose looked at her dead friend and then back to him. “Why?”

“Because a ghost cannot escape his fate by hiding in The Dreaming. Nor can a living human being escape her grief here.” He shook his head. “Do you not see the damage your presence has done to this realm? I cannot allow you to stay.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“You belong with the dead,” Dream answered. “You must go to the place appointed for you. I’m sorry, but you must say your goodbyes now.”

Lyta exhaled a shaking breath and shook her head. “No. I’m not losing you again.”

The spirit approached her with a sad smile. “I love you so much.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” the woman insisted, pressing a kiss to her lover’s lips. “Get out of our house!”

“Lyta-”

A soft chill stilled the harsh words on his tongue as mist swept across the floor. Dream turned to look at her lithe figure standing in the room with them. Daunt did not acknowledge him or Rose or even Lyta, only the spirit once named Hector. She raised a pale hand, covered in frost and frozen vines, toward him as she whispered, “Come.”

“Hector!” Lyta cried out, taking hold of the spirit’s arm as he began to turn toward the specter.

“She’s here for me.”

“You can’t go with her. You can’t go!” Lyta cried. “I can’t… not again.”

“What is lost will always be found.” Her words were cold, carrying the chill of the mist and frost. Dreams’ heart stuttered at the sound of it. 

“Daunt,” he whispered her name like a desperate prayer, a plea to her. Hear me... Look at me.

Her head turned in his direction, and even from behind the veil that shrouded her face, he could feel her eyes. He almost dropped to his knees then and there in the crumbling dream Lyta Hall, and her dead husband had built, but she turned away from him and once again beckoned the spirit to her.

Hector spared Lyta a look before pressing a kiss to her lips and cradling her round belly in his hands. “Tell the baby I love them. Never let them forget just how much I love them.”

With a weak sob, she nodded. “I won’t, not ever.” She sobbed as she cupped his cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” the spirit whispered. “Goodbye.”

He turned and lifted his palm into Daunts. A wave of mist and distant wolf howls echoed all around them. Dream took a half step forward at the familiar sounds of The Forest’s call - of Daunt’s call. The spirit let the mist wash over him with a content sigh before he vanished from sight. Rose held her friend closely but never looked away from Daunt as she remained.

“Child born of death and dreams,” Daunt said, her voice echoing like ocean waves. “Evil will seek it out to steal its power.”

“No!” Lyta shouted, turning her head toward the white figure. She shook her head, holding her stomach tighter. “No.”

Rose rubbed her arms. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep them safe.” She looked at Dream desperately. “Right, Dream?”

He was frozen for a moment, still looking at her, before he nodded stiffly and looked at Lyta. “So long as I live, no harm shall befall your child. Not in the Waking World and not in dreams.”

The woman didn’t look convinced, but after a moment, she nodded and eased into Rose’s arms. 

“We are running out of time,” Daunt said to him.

“Then help me,” he pleaded. “Open your realm and let me in.”

She tilted her head. “Only you hold the power to do so, Dream of The Endless.”

“What do you mean?”

“My realm was never closed to you,” she answered.

Dream sighed, stepping closer to her. “I do not understand.”

Daunt lifted a frozen hand to his face, her thin fingers traced over his eyes. “You do not need to understand. You only need to see.”

Mist slid through his fingers and smoother gently across his cheek. Gone again from him, the crumbling dream was all that remained. The two looked sad when he turned back to Lyta Hall and Rose Walker. Sad for him. Lytas’ eyes held an understanding beneath her deep anger and loss. Rose spoke, “Who was she?”

“An immortal being,” Dream answered simply. “One that is not your concern.”

“You care for her.”

A painful longing exploded within him as he turned away from them and said, “This dream is over.”

When he finished repairing the damage to his realm, he sought Lucienne out. Matthew would have already delivered his message, but Dream owed his librarian an apology. “Lucienne?”

“My lord. There’s something I must tell you,” she said as she hurried out from around the corner.

“And I will listen. But, first, you must let me tell you that… you were right.” He said softly, noticing immediately how her eyes looked up at him with light and hope renewed inside them. “The vortex was responsible for the damage to our realm, and I was… wrong to risk our safety in the hope that she would locate the missing Arcana.”

“You were not entirely wrong, sir. She’s found them both.”

“What? The Corinthian and Fiddler’s Green? Where? How do you know?”

“Fiddler’s Green told me.” She looked over to the shelves at the man… at Fiddler’s Green as he emerged from behind the racks.

He bowed. “Apologies, lord, for having left.”

“Why?” He asked, desperate to understand what he’d done wrong. “Why did you leave? I trusted you. You were the heart of The Dreaming.”

“No, sir. You were the heart of The Dreaming. And you were gone. I was curious. And it turns out that life as a human contains substance I never even imagined when I was here.” He sounded so vibrant. “Which is why I’ve returned because… he’s murdering them.”

“The Corinthian?” It wasn’t shocking to learn of his nightmare’s recklessness.

Fiddler’s Green nodded, face twisting in disgust. “He appears to have built up a cult of worshipers who kill for pleasure, endangering the Waking World and the life of a friend called Rose Walker.”

“The Corinthian has found Rose Walker?”

“Yes.”

Lucienne shook her head. “Can you imagine the damage he could do with someone like Rose?”

“You must tell me where they are.”

*

The Corinthian stood at the podium, delivering a confident and proud speech inspiring the room of pathetic and deluded humans to imagine their atrocities. Dream stood in the aisle, watching his creation with ill-tempered rage swimming in his chest. The nightmare noticed him quickly but did not stop his speech until he’d finished. Always doing things on his own terms, Dream thought silently, for a brief moment admiring the determination he had forged. But was it not that determination that led him to plunge that knife into Daunt’s chest? To betray the one he called friend?

“You disappoint me, Corinthian,” Dream said through tight lips. “You and these humans you’ve inspired and created… disappoint me.”

His words visibly struck his creation as he bared his teeth. “I’ve done my best to be what you made me.”

“No,” he replied with a slight chuckle as he walked toward the stage. “You’ve done your worst, which was in so many ways what I had hoped. You were my masterpiece. A dark mirror made to reflect everything humanity will not confront.”

“That’s what I am,” The Nightmare nodded, straightening his back as he turned to face his creator. “That’s what I’ve done.”

“No. Look at you, walking this Earth for over a century infecting others with your joy of death, but what have you given them? What have you wrought?” His anger began to seep into his words. “Nothing. Just something else for people to be afraid of. That is all.”

The Corinthian scoffed, cocking his head ever so slightly. “So what now? You send me back into their dreams?” He pulled a knife from his jacket, a knife not unlike the one he’d used on Daunt, and shook his head. “Cause I won’t go willingly.”

“A knife against a dream?” His voice was dark wind and shadow as he stepped towards his creation slowly.

“You don’t think dreams can die? Let’s find out.” The Corinthian insisted.

Dream held his hand out, drawing upon his power. “Enough.” The sand moved at his feet as The Corinthian stabbed his knife into his outstretched hand. The pain startled him back and to his knees as he looked down at the wound. “How?”

“I’ve got Rose Walker getting stronger every second while you get weaker,” The nightmare said with a wide grin. “She’s taking your place at the center of The Dreaming. She’s bringing the walls down between the sleepers’ minds, and now they’re all dreaming the same dream. A dream that I inspired.”

“No.”

“It’s already happening. There’s nothing you can do. She’s asleep and dreaming.”

“Then she’s not beyond my reach.”

The Corinthian shrugged. “Oh, I think she is. Now that she knows you’re planning to kill her.”

Dream pushed himself into the horrific visions molding together just as she and her brother turned towards him. “You need to wake up!”

“Don’t listen to him, Rosebud. You’re the one with the power now, not him. This is your dream.”

“It’s his dream for your world,” Dream corrected.

The Corinthian smiled at Rose. “Then let’s make it yours. Whatever you want, Rose. A blank canvas!”

The dreams of her brother and the other humans vanished, and Rose’s eyes went wide with fear. “Where’s Jed?”

“Jed’s fine. He’s upstairs, asleep, he’s right next to you. This dream is yours now. The Dreaming is yours now!”

“The Dreaming is yours? Is that what he told you?” Dream demanded coldly.

Rose looked up at him, confusion evident in her eyes. “He told me you were gonna kill me.”

“Did he tell you why? When a vortex brings down the walls between dreams, she creates a single volatile dream that will collapse in upon itself, and take the waking world with it. Your world. Everything and everyone will die.”

The Corinthian bent down to Rose’s ear. “Don’t believe him, Rosie.”

“It’s happened before. I failed in my duty, an entire universe was lost.”

“He can’t kill you if you kill him first.”

“Killing me may save your life, but it won’t save the lives of those you love.”

“I’m tryin’ to keep you alive here!” The nightmare growled, the playful mask he bore slipping at last.

“I’m trying to keep your world alive,” Dream argued.

The Corinthian growled, “You have to choose one of us, Rose!”

“Enough!” She shouted above their noise, waves of power rolling off her and amplifying her voice. Rose Walker looked to The Corinthian. “If I’m as powerful as you say I am, then I will find my own way. In the meantime, the walls go back up.” She lifted her hand, willing the walls between the dreams to return.

A loud groaning sound echoed all around them as the mist began to overtake the room. Rose drifted back closer to Dream as everything around them changed. “What is this? What’s happening?”

Trees, gnarled and dripping with blood, surrounded them as dark figures moved in the woods, and all manner of noises surrounded them. The tree roots wound around The Corinthian’s limbs as The Nightmare tried to take a step back from the figure in white that now stood at the treeline. “Daunt.”

Dream wanted to reach out to her, to speak to her, anything, but Daunt was not herself. Her blood-covered form was no more than mist and bitter frost. Instead, Dream took hold of Rose’s arm and pulled her behind him. “At last,” Daunt said softly, but her voice sounded anything but. “You have come to see the damage caused by your hands.”

The roots of the trees began to squeeze the nightmare tightly. He groaned as his bones began to creak beneath the wood. “This is still your dream Rose.”

The figure in white turned her head, and ice crept along Dream’s form under her gaze. “No.”

Rose shivered from behind him and quickly uttered the words she’d heard him say, “This dream is over.”

“NO!” Daunt screamed, lunging forward as the dream vanished.

Standing back in the hotel, his nightmare breathed a relieved breath and stood once again as Dream looked down at his now-healed hand. His nightmare removed the dark shades that shielded the rows of teeth from view. That anger that filled him became unbearable as he looked over at the nightmare with watering eyes. “She trusted you, loved you, and you betrayed her.”

The Corinthian sneered. “You, of all people, have no right to judge me, Dream. After all, you drove her away in the first place! If you think I’m going back to The Dreaming with you-”

The floorboards beneath their feet began to tremble and crack. Mist filled the room as tall trees tore through the floors, and The Forest started to bleed into the Waking World. The Corinthian looked around him with stoic features as roots quickly began overtaking everything in the room. Standing in the crowd, Daunt breathed heavily, the veil gone, revealing her bleeding chest and wide eyes. “You do not get to leave me again, Corinthian.”

“Daunty,” the nightmare said softly. Roots twined around him as she walked up the stage and past Dream to stand in front of his rouge creation, the creation that had betrayed her.

“Have you any idea what it was like?” She demanded. “Knowing all this time that it was you that plunged the blade into my heart. That you… my friend… would doom me to this.”

For the first time, Dream could see the sorrow and pain in the nightmares eyes as he looked up at Daunt. “I’m sorry.”

A sob escaped her throat as everything in the room grew colder. “LIAR!”

The roots stabbed through The Corinthian in various places, digging deep into his body. He took it all with a sheer grit of his teeth, never looking away from Daunt as she stepped closer to him, a blade… the blade poised in her hands and pressed against The Corinthian’s chest. “Do it.” He told her. “I deserve it.”

Dream moved closer to her, ignoring the way it stung his skin. “Daunt…”

“No,” The Corinthian told him. “Do it, Daunty. Finish me.”

 “Was it worth it?” She demanded, her gaze shifting to the humans that sat in the crowded room. “Was all this worth it?”

“The only thing I regret is what I did to you,” The Corinthian said carefully.

“Regret?” She questioned, deathly quiet. “You do not know regret… not nearly enough to satisfy me.”

“Daunt,” Dream called out, hoping to pull her from the darkness that echoed in her words.

The blade flashed in the dim light as she drove it through The Corinthians ribs, twisting it as she knelt down, leaning her head closer to the nightmare and listening to his pained noises. “Look into my eyes, betrayer. Look and see what you wrought.”

He seemed to shake the longer he met Daunt’s gaze, the stoic features of his face twisting into pain and sorrow. The trees closest to her caught fire, and the sounds of fear and screaming. “Daunt…”

“You did this!” She screamed, tearing the blade from his ribs and stabbing him again.

The Corinthian bowed his head, pulling the blade from his flesh and holding it out to her. “Please.”

A sharp and pained scream echoed around Dream as Daunt fell back slightly, holding her chest as the wound began to bleed once more. She sobbed quietly, holding her hands to blood and crying as she looked to The Corinthian. “I trusted you…”

“I didn’t mean for this,” he whispered. “I didn’t…”

Daunt wept, “I cannot kill you, dear Corinthian. No matter how much you deserve it. Our fates are sealed, yours and mine.”

The Corinthian’s lips quivered as he looked back up at Dream. “Finish it, Dream.”

His voice was low, nearly hoarse, as he spoke, “I brought you into this world to serve humanity. Not to feed upon it.”

“I do it to taste what it’s like to be human.” The Corinthian admitted. “You don’t care about humanity, none of them. You can’t even bring yourself to care about her. You only care about yourself and your realm and your rules.”

“I contain the entire collective unconscious. Without my rules, it would consume me. Humanity would be consumed.”

“Or you might actually feel something. I am not the problem, Dream.”

With a look to Daunt, whose form slowly began to be overtaken with frost, he replied, “You are right. This was my fault, not yours. I had so much hope for you, but I created you poorly then. So I must uncreate you now.”

The sand swirled, glowing red as it ate away at his masterpiece. Daunt lifted her hand to his cheek, and he looked down at her as the last remnants of him faded. The Corinthian smiled at her, a soft smile, one he’d never known the nightmare to show before now. “Yours is the last face I will see.”

Daunt held the tiny skull of his nightmare in her bloodstained hand, standing slowly and turning to face him. More blood streamed down her cheeks as she cried tears of red. She placed the skull in his hand, and she whispered before he could even utter a word. “Find us, Dream. Please.”

And just as suddenly as she’d appeared, Daunt was gone again from his sight. His hand curled around the skull as he turned to the crowd of his creation’s flawed inspiration and shook his head. “And you… who call yourselves collectors, until now you have sustained fantasies in which you are the victims, comforting daydreams in which you are always right. But no more. The dream is over. I have taken it away. For this is my judgment upon you, that you shall know from this moment on exactly how craven and selfish and monstrous you are. That you shall feel the pain of those you have slaughtered. And the grief of those that mourn them still, and you shall carry that pain and grief and guilt with you until the end of time.”

They all rose from their seats and walked, dazed, out of the room. Dream looked around him at the lack of trees, mist, and all Daunt had brought with her. He closed his eyes and silently swore he would find her.

*

Rose Walker was not only the vortex but the child with the blood of an Endless. A child born of his sibling’s games. As soon as Dream had laid eyes on the dark heart she’d pulled from her chest and given to Unity Kincaid, he knew it. With a swiftness powered by his rage alone, Dream entered his gallery and grabbed the heart on the wall. “Desire. I stand in my gallery, and I hold your sigil. Talk to me.”

The faint image of his sibling’s wide red grin shinned from within the stone. “Why, sweet Dream. This is a surprise. Almost an event, I might say.”

“Good. I’m coming through,” he bit out through clenched teeth.

“You are?” They questioned, a slight pitch of fear entering their voice before they chuckled. “But of course. You know you’re always welcome in my chambers.”

The glossy red of Desire’s realm was hideous. He’d forgotten how much he detested the vivid color and how pungent the sickeningly sweet smell of summer peaches was. Dream took slow, deliberate steps closer to his sibling, who lounged in a chair in their gallery. “Lovely to see you,” they purred. “Can I get you anything you desire?”

“I desire nothing from you save some answers,” he replied tensely.

“Ooh, is this a test?”

“Unity Kincaid should’ve been the vortex of this era. But someone took advantage of my imprisonment and fathered a child with her, knowing full well that it would become the vortex, and I would be forced to kill it.”

Desire’s smile widened. “Was I really that obvious?”

“No,” Dream answered, circling them. “You covered your tracks remarkably well.”

“Well, that’s high praise coming from you.”

“What did you truly intend? That I should spill family blood? With all that would entail?”

They laughed. “This time, it almost worked.”

It was no secret that he and Desire loathed one another, but Dream hadn’t thought they would stoop to such drastic whims to see him dead. With a scoff, he shook his head. “My sibling, we of the Endless are the servants of the living, not their masters. We exist only because they know deep in their hearts that we exist. We do not manipulate them. If anything, they manipulate us.” Standing behind them now, his voice lowered, threatening and dark. “And you and Despair, and even poor Deliruim would do well to remember that.” He pulled their head back by their light hair and looked deep into the golden eyes that now flared with anger and fear. “Mess with me or mine again, and I shall forget you are family. Do you believe yourself strong enough to stand against me? Against Death? Against Destiny?”

“No,” they said in a trembling tone.

“Remember that next time you’re inspired to interfere in my affairs,” he whispered to them as his eyes trailed away from their golden irises to the red bitemarks that marred their hand. His hands tightened in their hair. “Where did you get those marks?”

“Is it not obvious, big brother?” They sneered with a smile. “Our lovely Mistake sends her regards.”

“What have you done with her?”

Desire’s smile widened. “So predictable, big brother.”

Anger laced deep into his voice. “What did you do?”

“I merely gave her what she always wanted.” Their golden eyes flared. “An end to her pitiful excuse of an existence.”

“You would dare to raise a hand against her?”

Desire scoffed. “She is no Endless. She is a Mistake. One that refused to see reason.”

“Where is she?”

“Right where I left her,” they answered. “In that pathetic little forest of hers with that stupid mutt.”

“How did you find it?”

Desire’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, you still haven’t been to see her? How sad. From what I hear, she doesn’t have much time left.”

Dream released their hair, practically throwing them forward as he turned and strode back down the hall he’d arrived in. “If Daunt dies, I will be back for your head.”

“Give her my best,” they called after him. “She looked rather ill when I last saw her.”

Daunt was alive, he reminded himself. She was alive, and he would find her. He would not lose her again.

*

It had been weeks since he’d finished his business with the Vortex and Desire. Months and still, there had been nothing to help him find her. He scoured every book and dream, desperately searching every corner he could reach for her to no avail. The ember of hope he’d held all this time slowly began to dwindle as the days passed… as he grew closer and closer to facing the horrible reality that he’d failed her.

Matthew had followed him to Fiddler’s Green, as the bird was known to do now that he was no longer shadowing Rose Walker, making comments on his incredibly sullen behavior, but Dream didn’t care enough to answer him. Instead, as he stood among the green fields and the flowers and the memories of their moonlit dances and conversations, Dream cared about nothing else but her. He wanted to see her again, to hold her in his arms and to beg for her forgiveness… to tell her, the real her, that he loved her and that he had for quite some time.

He stared out at the peaceful meadow for a moment longer before turning to leave. There was nothing for him here. Or was there? He halted almost instantly at the sight of white standing in the trees in front of him. The white stag stood between two large trees, watching Dream. Matthew looked over to where his master was staring and quietly asked, “What’s that thing?”

“A creature I thought had long abandoned this realm,” Dream answered as the stag turned away and began walking into the forest. Something inside him forced his feet to move, to follow the creature into the dark woods.

“Oh! So we’re following the weird lookin thing?” Matthew cawed loudly, taking to the sky to fly after them.

The trees grew closer and closer together, and darkness began to make it difficult to follow the creature forward. Mist rolled over Dream’s boots, and a chill seared his skin, forcing him to halt. This was not Fiddlers Green. This was nothing of his realm. “The Forest.”

A few steps ahead of him, the stag looked back and huffed, its breath visible in the frozen air, before it continued forward, stepping over the gnarled roots. Dream moved, too, a newfound desperation in his steps as they emerged from the thick trees into a small glen of frozen moss. Death and blood hung in the air all around them. The hollow resembled that which he’d seen in the short dream Daunt had influenced.

The stag took a half-step forward, a small frozen twig snapping beneath one of its hoofs. The sound echoed far louder than it should have, filling the silence with it. A heartbeat passed before a black shadow lunged out of the trees and dug its claws into the stag’s back, clawing and biting until the poor creature collapsed and its blood coated the white ground. Dream stood perfectly still as the beast tore into the stag’s flesh and devoured the steaming meat.

“Holy shit,” Matthew breathed from a branch beside Dream. The beast’s head turned, revealing two grey eyes locking onto Dream. It turned, claws clutching the stag’s body tightly, and let out a loud screech. Blood and spit coated its sharp teeth as its foul breath wafted to Dream’s nose.

The beast gave little to no warning before it pounced, claws tearing out of the carcass and slicing through the air as it made its way toward him, ready and willing to take the killing blow. White shot out through the forest, slamming into the black creature and forcing it onto the other side of the clearing. Growls and barks echoed through the trees before suddenly all grew silent. Matthew flew down from his perch, hopping toward the stag cautiously. “Where the fuck are we?”

Before Dream could answer the birds’ quiet question, the white blur returned. It leaped from nowhere and pinned Matthew to the snowy ground by a wing. The bloodstained teeth of the white wolf, marred with scars both old and new, chomped as he raised his head to look up at Dream. One eye was blue, crystal, and starry, while the other was faded gray and scarred. “What manner of demon are you?”

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden

Chapter 3: A Dream of Starlight

Part 2 | Part 4

Daunts Gown

TW: Dream's an asshole (yep he's sharing titles with his sibling this bit! 😂), some light choking (not the fun kind), character death, angst, fluff

The Corinthian walked across the misty bridge, each side lined with statues of wolves and dogs. He regarded each with a fond look, having known them all once before they met their ends. Daunt's companions never lived long, something about her realm... about being by her side seemed to make them die faster. She'd gone a while without using another of those stones, but the loneliness always won out in the end. Once he cleared the bridge he stood at her newly constructed home, a simple hut at the base of the tallest tree in The Forest. Sitting guard in front of him the wolf Puck watched with glowing yellow eyes. The Nightmare tipped his hat and adjusted his glasses. "Evening, mutt."

"My lady isn't taking visitors today. Leave." The wolf growled lowly.

"I've come on official business, I'm afraid." Corinthian held up the engraved letter with a tight smile. "Dream sent me to deliver this."

The tree roots cracked as they wrapped tightly around his legs, squeezing him at the sound of his creators name. It was hardly a secret that Daunt and Dream had a bit of a... Falling out after their last conversation, though calling it such would be generous. Corinthian remembered it all too well, having been the only one beside Jessamy that had been present for it.

*

It had began almost immediately after Destruction left his post. Dream sought you out in your realm, angry and looking for answers. Answers that you didn't have. You sat with your companion at the time, Gaia, on the bridge looking out at the river that now ran beneath your feet. It was then that you felt him, his power shoving through The Forest without care or thought as he looked for you. You'd not seen him for years, not since he'd last scolded you for entertaining his favorite Nightmare, who it seemed accompanied him with low words that almost sounded like The Corinthian was trying to calm him down.

Jessamy flew out of the trees, landing next to you. "Forgive our intrusion, Daunt. Please just answer his questions... he is not in the mood for opposition today."

A warning from Dream's trusted raven? That was odd. Usually the two were far more in sync in thought and action. Dream tore through the branches and stared you down. "Did you know?"

You tilted your head to the side with narrow eyes. "You'll have to be more specific."

The Corinthian emerged shortly after his maker and set a hand on Dream's arm, an action that was promptly shoved off as he stalked forward. "Destruction is gone."

"Gone?" You questioned, disbelief and pain nearly bringing you down.

"He has abandon his realm and his role." Dream stopped just before the bridge. "Did you know that he intended to go?"

"No." He left? You thought back on the last time you spoke fully, he had seemed tired... Restless then.

"Liar."

You scoffed, a sound more meant to clear your now tight throat than anything. "Why would I lie?"

Dream took a step forward, the wood creaking beneath his foot. Gaia's haunches rose and she growled lowly beside your feet. The darkness of your realm seemed to curl around Dream as he continued moving forward until you stood face to face. "Out of spite to the rest of us, to protect him, to wreak havoc on the world. Take your pick."

With a simple show of your palm, Gaia calmed, but did not relent in her defensive stance. You stared down Dream just as you always had, but this time was different, this time he was actually showing you something... not his usual mild annoyance but his anger. "I didn't know and I wouldn't have kept it from anyone if I did. Despite your belief, I am no liar."

"I do not believe you," he spat. "Where is he?"

"I don't know."

Dream's hand wrapped around your throat, not squeezing too hard, but enough to startle you. "Where is my brother?"

You pushed yourself further into his hand, bringing your face closer to his. "I already told you. I. Don't. Know."

"Dream," Corinthian called, uncharacteristically stiff. "We're wasting our time."

Gaia was growling again as Jessamy and Corinthian all tried to get his attention, to snap him out of such a deep state of anger that would cause such a lapse of judgment. His hand squeezed harder. "You and him were close. Do you expect me to believe he told you nothing of his plans when it seems he shared everything else?"

You knew this insinuation, he'd used it to insult you many times before. Yet, he would never listen to you tell him such rumors of yours and Destructions intimate connect were just another of Desires games to make you feel unwanted. "Believe what you want, Dream, but you are not the only one he abandon. I share the same pain as you."

"You share nothing with me."

"If you're going to kill me then do it." The words seemed to shock him out of his rage, or rather the eagerness in your voice. The light came back to his eyes as he looked down at his hand still wrapped tightly around your throat. A human would have likely suffocated by now. "I have been ready to die from the moment I was made." His hand released you, but his eyes remained glued to your neck where the bruise of his violence was no doubt prominent. You let loose a breath and shook your head. "A pity. For a moment I thought you were actually going to show me some semblance of kindness."

His eyes seemed to water as he sighed, his hand hesitantly reaching toward you. "Daunt..."

The thick tree branches wrapped around him before he could touch you again, pulling him deep into The Forest as the mist grew thicker. "You are done talking, Dream Lord."

"I-" A root covered his mouth as Gaia's glowing purple eyes pierced the darkness, her low growls filling the space around Dream as you emerged from the trees, nothing more than what humans described of you. A woman of mist and her companion of shadows.

"Stop talking." You said, lowly, the trees around you shaking with your voice. White snakes slithered around his bound limbs, hissing as they moved. "I have put up with your lowly treatment for centuries. Have respected your realm and your wishes even when it made my duty strained. All this kindness, all the respect I bore you and yet you would dare to enter my realm and raise your hand against me?" Dream tried to speak against the rough wood that covered his mouth, but you were no longer listening. You were physically shaking, the pain and anger and betrayal of not one but two of the Endless filling your body. "No longer. I will not look upon your face or hear your silken voice spit cruelty at me ever again, Dream Lord. And if you ever return I will kill you. I don't care if your siblings retaliate, I don't care if your death causes the end of all life. I have had enough."

He was released in an instant as The Corinthian and Jessamy found their way to where you both stared one another down. He breathed for a moment before standing, hand once again reaching for you. "Daunt, let me-"

"Leave." You ground out, tears running down your cheeks and your hands closed so tightly together that it hurt. "Leave and never come back."

Gaia leapt from the shadows when Dream took a step towards you. She stood tall between the two of you, white teeth bared as she snapped them at him, you turned away and began to walk back into the misty trees. "My lady has commanded you. Should you refuse it will bring me great pleasure to tear you and your companions limb from limb, King of Nightmares."

Of course he did not relent and so you cast him out, along with Jessamy and The Corinthian. Once all was still again and only you and Gaia remained you collapsed, sobbing as Gaia wrapped herself around you, pressing her head into yours. For years that had been the last you saw of Dream of the Endless and for years it was the last you planned on seeing of him.

He'd sent messengers to request an audience with you and each time you'd refused. You had no wish to see him, no wish to hear his cruel words and endure his lowly treatment of you for simply existing. As you'd told him you were done. You did your duty in the dreams of men, only ever remaining on the black sands of his world to watch the sunrise when you were certain he would not come to find you.

Some of his subjects would approach you for conversation, mostly nightmares such as The Corinthian who remained your friend throughout the centuries and Gault who respected you and your purpose. On rare occasions Cain or Abel would be with the once nightmare named Gregory they would speak to you fondly and Gregory was always a friend. Then there were the rarest occasions where Dreams trusted librarian, Lucienne, would be out on the beaches and would speak with you, though you long suspected that this was of Dreams doing... a way to see how angry you still were with him.

Anger was no longer what you felt, not for a long while, now all that remained was hurt and loss. You'd lost Destruction, who'd been the only one to understand you from the beginning of your existence and then in the same day Dream... a being you loathed but respected made his feelings about you clear. You were nothing to him. You may have been forced to interact through your duties, may have joined him and his family for dinner, may have had moments where for even just a short second it felt like he didn't hate you... but the reality remained the same. Your function meant little to him, your life meant even less. All Dream of the Endless would ever see you as was a burden.

As the years passed, Gaia too grew weaker. She'd lived by your side, faithfully providing you with protection and companionship, for ten years. She'd lived the longest out of all the stones Destruction had given you before he departed. When moving became too difficult for her you sat beside her on the bridge, her favorite place, and you waited for the end to come as it always did.

Dream had realized his mistake in confronting you over Destructions departure immediately after seeing his handprint left on your skin. He'd lashed out at you because it was easy... because he'd done it thousands of times before. But something had shifted in the scarce meetings he'd had with you the years prior. He found himself thinking of you often, thoughts that began as angry turned softer... he wondered what it would be like to show you his realm, to hear your voice not filled with malice and distain, to feel the your warm skin against his. The thoughts never left him alone, and after you'd thrown him out of your realm and told him never to return they'd only grown stronger.

He'd not seen you since that night, well, not truly. There were some nights he stood on the beaches and watched you from afar. Once he'd even tried to approach you, but the purple eyed wolf had stopped him with a glare. After that he stayed away, sometimes he'd send Jessamy to watch you, or Lucienne to gauge your ire. Eventually the fleeting feeling of your presence was not enough for him, and so he began sending messengers to your realm, in hopes you'd accept his offer and allow him to approach you. That never happened.

Though he'd never admit it to anyone, Dream felt badly. So badly he took to sitting in the Waking World alone with his thoughts. Death always found him in moments like this, and with a sigh she invited him to join her in her work. Dream accepted, as he always did, opting to wait outside the locations she traveled, but unlike the times before at the end she offered him no advice or words of encouragement. She instead turned to him and pressed a hand to his chest. "You might not want to join me for this last one."

"Why not?"

"It's... It's not like my usual collections. You won't be able to wait off to the side while I do this."

Dream merely bowed his head slightly to his sister. "I should like to accompany you nonetheless, sister."

When The Forest greeted them with an open path and thin mist, Dream was surprised to say the least. He followed Death closely until they reached the bridge he'd stood on and threatened Daunt all those years ago. This time she was on the ground, holding her trusted purple eyed wolf in her arms and whispering comforting words to it. He stood at the edge of the bridge, eyes only now taking in the statues of her other fallen companions that lined the path.

This was wrong. Shaping stones were not meant to perish, and yet they all had, nearly every stone he'd given to Destruction after the first was spent before his eyes. Death approached with reverence and knelt beside Daunt. "I'm sorry."

"I know." It was the first time he'd heard her voice in so long. She sounded so sad, so tired.

"I'll make sure she finds her way," Death promised as she laid a hand to the wolfs head. He watched lift the wolfs spirit up into the sky and vanish.

Daunt cried into the fur of her lost friend, the mist curling around her and the trees around them seemingly crying out as if they too felt the pain of her loss. He took a step forward, the bridge creaking beneath his feet. "Leave."

He paused in his steps and sighed. "Daunt, please..."

"GO AWAY!" She screamed, the mist shooting out toward him, blinding his sight and pushing him over the edge of the bridge and into the dark waters of her realm. Somehow he found his way to the waters of The Dreaming, back to the docks of his own realm, but now cursed with the image of Daunt curled over her dead friend and weeping.

Dream found himself holding a blue stone as he approached Lucienne in the library. She bowed her head and looked at him with inquisitive eyes. "My lord? Is there something I can help you with?"

"I hope so, Lucienne."

*

You opened your door to glare at The Corinthian, who stood in the same spot in front of Puck's watchful eyes. "Why the fuck would I accept this invitation when I've denied all the others?"

He shrugged. "Not a clue. I'm just the messenger."

With a few steps forward you gave Puck a loving scratch behind his ears and took the intricate envelop out of Corinthian's hands, tearing it in two and tossing it to the ground. "Message delivered and denied."

"Come on, Daunt," The Corinthian said with a crooked grin. "He's got a party to crash this time. I'll be all by my lonesome if you don't come."

"I'd rather die than attend any part of his."

"Me too, but I'm forced to go. If you were to come with me, we could at least have a bit of fun." He pulled a package out from behind him. "Besides, Dream had the sense to send a gift with me this time."

You rolled your eyes. "If it's another of his gowns I don't want it. He makes them these beautiful colors on purpose just so I have to watch them turn white."

Corinthian shook the box a bit. "This ones already white. We'll match."

For a moment you prepared to decline again, but the Nightmare seemed off... seemed like he needed this fun he spoke of more than he let on. So with a sigh you grabbed the box out of his hands and turned back inside to get changed. "You owe me big after this."

Dream had crafted the dress beautifully. It was the only compliment you'd give him and it would remain a quiet one. You'd attend his party, but you had no plans to speak with him or even look at him, just as you'd promised all those years ago. Once you'd changed and gotten yourself cleaned up a bit you rejoined The Corinthian and Puck with an annoyed expression. The Corinthian tilted his glasses down and whistled. "Lookin like a real Lady now, should I bow?"

"Stop teasing and let's just get this over with please?"

"As you command, my fine Lady Daunt."

"Corinthian..." You warned taking his arm. "Don't make me smack you around."

He merely shrugged as the two of you continued down the path. "Could be kinda fun."

Dream sat on his throne, watching his creations celebrate and in all honestly he'd forgotten the cause of this party. His head felt heavy, the hours passing with The Corinthian still not returned from Daunt's forest. Perhaps this time his request had been answered, or more likely, she'd gotten tired of his insistent asking and decided to take the Nightmare hostage. Just as he was about to give up all hope he saw The Corinthian enter, with Daunt and her new wolf beside him. The residents of The Dreaming moved out of her way, whispering about not wanting their gown to lose color and Dream felt another pang of guilt fill his chest.

It was his doing, their callousness of her. They were merely treating her as he had all the eons of this world. Daunt, however remained focused on the Nightmare at her side as he pulled her in closer. He couldn't help but feel a rising heat in him at their closeness, at the sight of his nightmare whispering things in her ear that brought a smile to her face or a laugh from her. She'd never given him either... he'd never given her a reason to.

Lucienne smiled from beside him. "Lady Daunt is looking well."

"Yes," he answered tensely, his eyes now drawn down the length of her. She'd worn the gown he sent... it was not often he cursed himself for his creations, but damn this was one. Dream couldn't focus on anything else, not while that dress, slightly too sheer, hugged her form so nicely, the jewels shimmering with every move she made and the intricate vines and tiny flowers brought attention to the plunging neckline that he had designed. Did he design it this way because the dress would be beautiful? Or had he done it because he wanted to see Daunt in it... to see her skin revealed to him in such a way... No. He cut the thought off before it could fully stick in his mind.

"It is a wonder she accepted this invitation," Lucienne noted. "It has been quite some time... perhaps she has-"

"She has not forgotten, Lucienne." He sighed, leaning back into his throne with a frown. "Nor has she forgiven."

Daunt was many things, but she was not one to forget lightly. She was here, yes, but she'd not looked in his direction once, and she most likely did not intend to do more than stay by his nightmares side and leave. Dream could only hope he could find a moment with her alone before this opportunity was gone.

Dancing with The Corinthian made the heat of Dreams eyes on you feel lessened, only slightly. You'd spent a few hours taking in the sights of the beautiful throne room, of the Dreaming that you were always denied access to. You didn't see much of it aside from the palace, but it would have to be enough. As the room began to really fill with Dreams subjects you snuck away to the pier, a location you knew from little glimpses. The Corinthian sighed, placing an arm around your shoulders. "Thanks for coming with me. I'm sorry you're likely going to regret it."

You shrugged it off. "You deserved to have fun tonight."

"At what cost to you though?"

"At the very least an unpleasant conversation." You nudged his shoulder. "But, it's one I will gladly suffer to bring you some peace, my friend."

He opened his mouth to speak again when Puck's growls interrupted him and the long not felt power of Dream brought a chill to your skin. The Nightmare tipped his hat to you and sighed. "Sorry, Daunt." He turned and smiled at his creator. "Dream."

You turned away, looking out at the water as Dream slowly made his approach. "I would speak with Daunt alone. If she will allow it."

Saying nothing you waved your hand and Puck followed The Corinthian down the pier, away from the two of you. You told yourself this was to keep the witnesses of his murder lower, but in truth you were afraid they would see you as weaker in Dreams overwhelming presence.

His black clad figure settled in beside you, his hands clasping behind his back. "It is lovely out here."

Silence.

"I was surprised to see you..." He admitted. "I did not think you would accept my invitation."

More silence.

"I see you have a new companion, if I'm not mistaken that is the last of the stones you carry?"

Silence again. Did he expect you to answer?

Dream turned his gaze to you, a loud sigh echoing in the air. "Daunt... please speak with me."

This time you relented slightly. "I've nothing left to say to you, King of Nightmares."

"I... I regret my actions all those years ago." His admittance was surprising, but it did little to ease the pain he'd caused. "My brothers decision affected me more than I thought and I was... I was looking for a way to release it."

"Fortunate for you, that you just so happened to know where the cosmic mistake resides."

"That is not what you are," he answered softly. For a moment you almost believed him.

You shook you head and ground your teeth. "You've made it quite obvious what you think of me. You and Desire see me as little more than a thorn in your sides, a mistake, a burden meant to make your lives miserable."

Dream was quiet for a moment, the comparison to his sibling must have struck him deeply. "Perhaps that is what I thought of you once. But I see now that I was wrong."

"You see now?" You scoffed. "Don't insult me."

"Let me show you then?" He offered, moving his hand toward you an action that made you flinch away from him. He dropped his hand after that and gestured to the water. "Please?"

Just this once, you'd indulge him. Just the last time you'd let yourself give into the whims of the Dream Lord. Once inside the waters you were guided to a dream... a memory? You both stood in a theatre, empty save for a few people going over lines and the set design. On the stage a woman clothed in all white with a very unconvincing dog at her side stood. A man, the writer, you presumed stood in front of her, giving her notes on her performance. You glared at the figure and felt a fear rise up in your chest. Of course this was another game... another trick meant to make you feel inferior. "Is this meant to be me?"

"Yes."

You turned quickly. "I did not come here to be insulted."

Dream stopped you with a gentle, feather light grip on your arm. "Wait."

The writer sighed. "She's not meant to be evil."

"But she's trying to stop the story, isn't she?" The actress asked. "Doesn't that mean she's evil?"

"No." He laughed. "No. She doesn't want to stop the story, she merely wants us to... to understand it better. Every time she cuts the heroes off from their parts of the story, their quest what happens?"

"They find another way."

"A better way. They see things they hadn't before, they add things to their plan they take things away. Don't you see? She is the reason the story is any good at all!" The writer gestured to the actress. "I think she knows our stories, our creativity better than we do... she challenges us to do better - be better, to achieve not just our measly little goals but to achieve the greatness we are so intimidated by!"

Tears stung your eyes when you both returned to the pier. Still you refused to look at Dream, refused to show him this weakness... and to have to admit that this was the nicest thing anyone had ever given you. "I was wrong to assume you meant the humans... the creators of this world harm. Because of you they find courage, the thing that idea alone cannot give. Your function forces them to face their worst fears, to separate them from what they believe is who they are... their life's work... and you make them find the courage to seek it out and make it better."

"If I didn't know any better I'd think this was a dream."

"I didn't think you had dreams," he said quietly. "I never thought to ask."

"I do." Immediately you shook your head at him. "Not how you're thinking."

"How then?"

"When I sleep I see misty figures on a vast plain of nothingness. There's nothing of substance in them, nothing really or imagined."

For a moment he was silent and then he turned to face you. "If you could go anywhere while you slept, where would it be?"

"Dream…"

"Tell me, and tonight it will be so."

You thought for a moment, turning your head away from his blistering gaze on you and up to the clouded sky you'd been doomed to stare at since the beginning of your existence. "The stars." It felt so foolish. "I would walk among the stars."

A glitter of sand swirled around you, a halo framing your head before it settled into a soft trickle, coating you in the soft tingly feeling of it. "Breathe, open your mind to me."

It was easier than you thought it would be, though you'd quickly written it off as your mind succumbing to Dream's power and not even entertaining the foolish notion that you'd trusted him. For a moment all you could see was darkness, but a cool breeze kissed your skin and a hand gently squeezed yours. "Open your eyes."

Nothing could have prepared you for what you would see when you did. Stars, endless shining stars of every size and shape, twinkled in the cosmic clouds. The ground beneath your feet was a reflective mirror of ice, glowing dimly beneath the ethereal sky. A shuddering breath left you as turned, looking in every direction as if the white mist and nothingness would be lurking around the corner. It was so beautiful.

For the first time in years you looked at him, his star filled eyes practically glowing here. He said nothing, simply holding his palm out to you, a blue stone sitting in the middle. It was then that it dawned on you... the stones from Destruction... "They were yours?"

"They were from my realm, but they were always yours." He frowned slightly. "If I had known that they died... This one will not fade, I assure you."

"Why are you doing this?"

Dreams eyes glistened with repressed tears. "Because you were right. I've been nothing but cruel to you... no better than Desire in making you feel lesser than us at every turn when you have simply done your duty as we do. I was wrong to write you off as an adversary and my actions against you that day... they are unforgivable."

You'd never heard Dream apologize before, and though he'd likely not do it fully you could feel his regret in the air between you. Taking the stone from his hand you looked at it closely, holding it carefully. "Thank you, for tonight, Dream."

"It is what you were owed." He answered. "If you wish it, from here on my gates are open to you."

You smiled, soft and hesitant, but you smiled. "I've not yet forgiven you... but I will not forget this, Dream of the Endless."

He bowed his head. "Goodbye, Lady Daunt. I hope to see you again soon."

"Goodbye, Dream Lord..."

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden

Chapter 9 | Chapter 11

Chapter 10: Be Still, My Bleeding Heart

TW: ANGST!!! This chapter is literally just fucking angst! So buckle up y'all! Dark imagery, mentions of blood and slight body horror, character death (kinda), mentions of SA, mentions of child death (Orpheus), The Fates (fuck them bitches), Calliope's whole story is sad as hell, depression and of course I gotta leave y'all with a cliffie (I'm SORRY! I didn't know where to end this chapter so it would smoothly merge into chapter 11 so ya get what ya get 🤷‍♀️)

Matthew flew through the bare branches of the trees, looking around at the sea of dead in front of them. From up here, he could see the shadows that moved in the woods, skirting around them like frightened animals, yet lingering… watching like something other. It put him even more on edge. Dream hadn’t spoken much about this woman… Daunt… that he’d been searching for. He hadn’t said anything except the usual cold dismissal of the bird's questions. But now that they were here, and Matthew saw the dark world and had been pinned beneath the wolf’s paw, he could understand the dire nature of things.

Whoever she was, Daunt was important to Dream and to the wolf, hell, maybe even to the world. And whatever happened here meant that his boss was probably about to walk headfirst into a broken heart. Matthew swooped down to rejoin the two silent companions that walked through the snow. “So… uh… it’s a nice place you’ve got here.”

The wolf turned to glare at him with his good eye. “It was a place of beauty once. Green trees and endless fields of moss and tall grass. The singing of the trees as our lady passed them by.” He made a noise. “It is nothing more than a dead cage now.”

“I’m sorry,” Matthew said, cawing softly. “I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose something like that.”

“Do not be sorry,” Sirius looked back at Dream. “Just fix it.”

The thick blanket of snow did little to conceal the scorched trees and mask the smell of lingering smoke and sulfur. What had happened here? Why was she not the one to greet him with her companion? Dream feared the answers more than anything, yet his feet carried him forward toward the faint hum of life. The white wolf spoke little but was used to Daunt’s companions disliking him. This was different. In the short vision he’d seen of the creature before he regained his power and restored his realm, the wolf was healthy and appeared kinder. The beast he followed closely behind now was cold and detached, hardly even looking back to make sure he was keeping up through the ever-thickening snow.

Dark shapes and sharp hisses darted across the treeline randomly as Dream felt the ever-growing sensation of eyes watching them. “What manner of creatures are these?”

“I do not know,” the wolf admitted. “My lady once called them lost spirits.” Then, turning his head, that blue eye pierced him. “Though some, she said, were nightmares.”

Nightmares? Why would his nightmares have been here? “I did not send them if that is your concern.”

The wolf scoffed. “My first memory of this life was catching my lady's tears. She bore a deep sorrow… one forced on her by you. Of course, she never confirmed my theory, but it was obvious when we went to your precious Dreaming to offer aid. Her pain was far more palpable there.”

Regret brought Dream to a slower pace as he sighed, closing his eyes. He should have known that Daunt sought the comfort of the stone after his unkind words. At least she had not been alone all this time, though as Dream looked at the wolf, he couldn’t help but feel sad as the price for such had clearly taken its toll.

When, at last, he could feel a warm breeze against his skin and the sight of a great wall of twisted trees and thorns, Dream could hardly breathe. Matthew hopped on the ground beside him. “Are you sure about this? We have no idea what’s waiting for us on the other side.”

“Daunt will not harm us,” he assured his raven. A flash of her darkened anger unleashed upon The Corinthian replayed in his mind. “She came for me, and I swore to do the same.”

The white wolf pressed his frozen snout to the scorched bark of the trees, and with a groan and what sounded like pained whispers in a language he did not understand, the trees parted just enough for them to pass through. The flooded meadow was one he recognized in an instant. Her home had stood here, at the base of The Great Tree… the tree that was now gone. It fell before its time… This is what she’d spoken of. Cut to the bone. Crying out and bleeding, left to burrow. Left to rot. He looked at the blackened leaves and the bark, peeling away and covered in cuts and scars, but the roots caught his eyes and made his heart stop. The roots dug too deep.

Daunt lay in a bed of knarled tree limbs and a settling frost. The roots of The Great Tree snaked all around her, shifting with the squelching sound of blood following after. They were burrowed deep into her chest, splitting it open so deeply he could practically see her faintly beating heart. Matthew stopped in his movements and quietly cursed beneath his breath as the wolf pressed his head into the pale, limp hand that hung over the side of the crude bed.

He whined briefly before the blue of his eyes shifted to Dream. Then, sitting beside his master, the wolf spoke again, “You will bow in the presence of the Lady of The Forest. For it is the beating of her heart that has kept your realm safe all these years.”

“Daunt,” Dream breathed, and the whole meadow shifted.

*

You were weak, so very weak. Every inch of you was thin, little more than skin hanging off the bone. Blood pooled all around you, and the stench of it made you want to retreat further within the tree's roots as the pain that your life had become filled your lungs. Wheezing breaths forced from your chest echoed around you, but it was a voice… his voice that had called you back.

“Dream?” You called out weakly as you lifted your eyes to the dark figure standing beside you, looking down with tears in his eyes. "You came," you whispered, relief filling you as you cried.

Dream knelt before you, bowing his head sincerely; he answered, "You called."

"Has it truly been so long?" Your eyes took in the sight of him, not aged in appearance but different, visibly so in the way he spoke and carried himself but more in the way he looked at you. "Oh, how I have waited to see those eyes..." Your fingers brushed against his high cheekbones. "These lips." They were soft beneath your fingertips as you shook your head. "This face." More tears blurred your vision as you sobbed. “It’s been so very long… so long…”

"Forgive me,” he said gently. “I should have found you sooner… should have been here long ago." Dream raised his hand to gently hold your wrist, keeping it in place so he could kiss your hand.

"You are here now," you whispered. "That will have to be enough."

Dream kept his cheek to your hand as he spoke a weak and desperate demand, "Tell me how to stop this."

"Oh, Dream,” you shook your head and stroked his cheek. “You cannot stop this. Neither of us can now.”

His face twisted into an angry… desperate expression that only made this more difficult. Pain, old and new, rippled through you as the roots curled, piercing deeper into your heart and bringing the frozen world around you a wave of tremors. Your eyes shut, mind threatening to be pulled back to drown again in the realms connected to the roots. No, you thought, desperately trying to cling to his voice calling out your name. No, please… You couldn’t fight it, so you submitted, forcing the current that pulled you to drift to The Forest, where Dream knelt beside you. 

Standing at his side, you looked down at him, holding your limp hand and whispering quiet pleas at you to stay… to tell him how to fix this. “We are running out of time.”

He looked up, taking slight relief in the projected image of yourself… the self that hadn’t been so thin and frail looking. “Why is this happening?”

“The Great Tree was cut down,” You answered, looking over his shoulder at the decaying trunk. “Without it, this realm cannot be.”

“But you are still here,” he said. “You are the monarch of this realm. Should it not be your life that it is tied to?”

You shook your head. “I am not a monarch, no ruler, no god… No Endless. It is not I this realm was forged by, nor I that controlled it. The Forest is and was by the will of The Great Tree. And now…”

“Now it is gone.” Dream looked back down at your body. “Then why did you bind yourself to the roots? Why endanger your life?”

“To keep The Dreaming safe until you came back,” You whispered, tears stinging your eyes. “Hell would have used The Forest to break through to your realm… they would have taken all that you created and corrupted it.”

Dream’s chest rose quickly as anger filled his chest. “Hell?” He looked around at the scorched trees and thought about your companion's words. “Is that what happened here?”

Bowing your head, you sighed, “They marched shortly after The Corinthian cast me into the river. I was not fully healed… I could not fight them.”

“Daunt…” he took a step toward you. “I… I am sorry for all that I said to you that day…”

You closed the distance between you, gently pressing your hand to his lips to keep him from uttering more apologies. “I know.” You couldn’t help the way his eyes made you feel weightless, made you forget all about your own dying body beside you or the cold that bit your skin. “I was so angry for so long…” A cold breath curled in the space between you. “I’m not angry anymore.”

His lips pressed to your fingers. “I will spend forever trying to make amends for all the pain I’ve caused you. But, please… Just tell me how to save you.”

“You cannot.” Shaking your head, you lowered your hand. “This cannot be stopped. It should not be stopped.” Then, looking around you with a soft sigh, you smiled, “The Forest will fade into deep winter, the cold will spread through these roots, and everything known now will be gone. But then spring will be allowed to come… sunlight, rain, and life. All that was lost will be reborn, even me.”

He shook his head. “No… Even if you are, it will not be the same. It will not be you.”

“This is what I want, Morpheus…” His eyes softened at your use of his name. “It is what I spent so many long nights wishing for… to be different. To be born again as something better, something good. I do not want to live the rest of this long life as a mistake… as a burden.”

“You were never that,” he said, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Please…”

You lifted your hand and wiped them away. “I wish to be as I was meant to be. I can feel something greater waiting… but first, I must surrender this form. This may not have been my choice then, but it is now.”

Hurt shined brightly in his eyes as he asked, “Why did you call me here if not to save you?”

You turned to look down at the white wolf that desperately curled his head into your limp hand. “You cannot save me, but you can save him. He has given enough these long years… lost enough of himself trying to defend a land already lost. Take him with you… Let him live in The Dreaming or the Waking World in peace until I return. Will you do this for me?”

Bowing his head, you knew that he understood. “Of course, I will.”

You nodded your head and whispered to Dream, “Thank you.” Then you turned to Sirius. "I fear our time is up, little one."

The wolf's breathing shifted as he tore his eyes away from your body and glanced between you and Dream. "But… You… You said he would help us."

"He is." You knelt before him, tears in your eyes as you smiled. "You have to go with him."

"No… No…" Sirius pressed his head into your hands, matted fur filling your palms with warmth. "I cannot leave you. I will not."

"You must," you whispered. "When I am gone, all that remains here will die. I do not wish that for you, not ever."

"Death is better than living on without you!" He insisted, whining as his bright blue eye filled with tears. "I do not want to go…. I do not want to leave you. Please, my lady… Please, Daunt… do not make me leave you."

Pressing your head to his, you cried softly. "This is not goodbye. Simply until we meet again." You pulled back and smoothed his fur down, holding his face. "You will have to be very brave, my star."

His whining echoed in the glen. "May I stay with you… until the end?"

"Oh, Sirius, you'll stay with me far longer than that." Pressing a kiss to his snout, you sighed. "When I return, I will protect you, I promise."

You could feel Dreams' pain roil around him as you stood, looking down at your frail physical form. "I do not wish to die like this. Suffering… In this empty, forgotten place. May I trouble you with one last dream to lay me to sleep?" You asked quietly, looking up into the dark sorrow filled eyes of the Dream Lord. "Would you grant me that?"

He pulled his pouch of sand out from his coat and nodded. “I would grant you everything.”

“Thank you,” you said as he let the sand fall over your body, and your mind stopped drowning. You let yourself be tugged into his power and the warmth of the dream he gifted you.

The two of you stood on the pier in The Dreaming, misty water shining beneath the moonlight. Smiling, you looked up at him. “I remember this place. It has been so long since I’ve felt this.”

He remained sad as he looked down at you. “If you could go anywhere, where would it be?” Tears gathered in his eyes. “Tell me, and I shall make it so.”

“I would walk among the stars one last time,” you answered with tears of your own blurring your vision.

Dream stepped closer, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his dark chest. He kissed your head, and your eyes drifted shut, listening to the soft command that slipped past his lips, “Open your mind to me.”

When you opened them again, you let out a soft sob as the dream you’d shared so long ago surrounded you. Stars, endless shining stars, twinkled in the radiant cosmic clouds. The ground beneath your feet was a reflective mirror of ice, glowing dimly beneath the ethereal sky. It was just as beautiful as you remembered. Dream looked down at you, admiring the way your eyes lit up even as the weight of your fading life began to settle beneath your eyes. He committed you to memory… refusing to live even one moment without remembering how you laughed or the sound of you speaking his name.

Looking back at his mournful face, you touched his cheek, wiping away the tears. "This is not the end. It is a new beginning... Perhaps one for both of us. It is good."

"I will not see you again."

"Of course you will," you assured him. "You will see me, Dream of the Endless. You will see me in the mist over the water. You will see me in white clouds and in books with empty pages. You will see me in your precious dreamer's masterpieces." Then, stroking your hands down his star-filled coat, you closed your eyes, pressing your head into his cheek. "When I return, we will see one another again."

"It will not be the same you that stands before me now," he warned.

"Change is a part of life." You smiled, fingers running along his face. "You will also be different when we next meet."

"Daunt..." He shook his head. "All this time... All the years I was imprisoned, all I wanted was to see you again. And now that I have that..."

You pressed your fingers to his lips once again. “Hold onto those words, my Dream. Hold onto them and tell me when we meet again.”

He set his forehead against yours. “I will hold them forever if I must.”

You could feel your body growing weaker, and the slowing of your heartbeat as you leaned on Dream more urgently. “Kiss me, Morpheus. So I might remember the feel of your lips on mine and carry it with me to whatever life awaits me.”

The King of Dreams would not deny you anything. His lips pressed to yours, soft and tender and filled with the words you would not let either of you say. I love you. You held onto the feeling of him. The way he held you so carefully, as though you were more precious than any jewel. The way his kiss tasted of stars and happy dreams and love. You would not forget this feeling… not ever… not across a thousand lifetimes.

When you parted, the ice beneath your feet shifted to sparkling sand, and the heaviness of it pulled you deeper and deeper until even the stars were little more than falling sand. "This is not goodbye... Simply until we meet again."

*

Dream was pulled out of your mind the moment your heart stopped beating. Now he stood, staring down at your body, wishing that faint heartbeat was still echoing in the small meadow. Sirius lifted his head once he realized you were gone, and a pained howl tore through every tree in The Forest. For a moment, all he could do was stand there and look at you, but the frost and roots moved quickly. 

The roots pulled your body down, forcing Sirius from your lap, and burrowed deep into the earth as the water below turned to ice. He looked at the wolf, whining and desperately pacing, trying to find a way back to your side. “We must go now. Before the frost takes us.”

“She…” His voice was hoarse and full of pain. “I…”

Dream set a tentative hand on the wolf's head and sighed. “She will return. But until then, you must come with me where you will be safe.”

The blue, watery eye of the wolf looked up at him, and with a broken spirit, he nodded, following Dream and Matthew into the trees until they emerged back into Fiddler’s Green. He could practically feel how each step weighed down the creature's heart as they made their way to his palace, where Lucienne stood on the bridge, waiting with the white book in her hands.

“Sirius,” she whispered, full of joy, before looking up at her lord's tearful eyes and realizing what had happened. “She’s gone… truly?”

The wolf stopped walking, choking on heavy sobs as another howl, far more pained than before, ripped through the air of The Dreaming. Lucienne hurried forward, dropping the book at his feet and taking the creature into her arms, holding him tightly as she whispered soft, reassuring words. Daunt was gone… And now those who had known her, loved her, would have to go on.

Dream bent down to take the book, holding it in his hands to remind himself of the feel of her skin and the sound of her voice. Then, he continued walking toward the throne room, unable to linger in the pain the wolf radiated as his own was smothering enough. As he stroked the pages, one page loosened beneath his fingers, flittering out of its own accord and gliding to the marble floor at his feet. 

It was a picture of her. Painted in white against an emerald page, glittering with silver adornments and the words, her last words scrawled across the bottom. Until we meet again.

*

Calliope glared at the door. The pain, both physical and more, lingered in her… stained her being with anger and hatred, and desperation. She knelt on the floor and sighed, pressing her palms to the cool wood of her prison. “Gracious ladies, mother of the Camenae, hear my prayer…” Tears filled her eyes. “It is I, your daughter, Calliope, that calls you to deliver me from this place.” She exhaled a shaking breath and closed her eyes tightly. “Ladies of meditation, remembrance, and song, harken to me!”

The callous voice of The Crone filled the room. “All right.” What would have typically made Calliope feel patronized as the voices of The Fates mingled together now filled her with hope as the room around her hazed with visions of light… of home. “Enough, beautiful voice.”

Trees and an endless sky filled with white clouds brought tears to her eyes as the three figures stepped toward her. Their delicate white gowns flowed in the breeze that smelt of the sea and fig trees, and the echo of the mountains called her home… called her to where her heart longed to return more than anything. Calliope stumbled to her feet with a sharp breath of relief. The Mother spoke, voice strained with sorrow, “We feel your pain, daughter, but we cannot help you.”

Her hope and relief turned to bitter ash in her chest as The Maiden continued, “You were snared upon Helicon according to the Mysteries. You are lawfully bound.”

“But it is not just, my mothers.” She met each of their eyes, pleading with them through more than words. “Is there nothing you can do? No one who can intercede on my behalf?”

“There are few of the old powers who are willing or able to meddle in mortal affairs in these days, Calliope,” The Maiden answered, her darkened hair blowing in the breeze. 

The Mother shook her head. “Many gods have died, my daughter. Only The Endless never fade.”

“And even they have been having a difficult time of late.” The Crone laughed, moving around to gaze at herself in the mirror. “Still… every little bit helps as the old woman said when she pissed in the sea.”

The Mother sat on the bed where she’d been defiled and hummed. “The Endless. There’s a thought.” Her eyes drifted to The Crone. “After all, the Dream King and Calliope were close at one point.”

“Mmm, not for long.” The Maiden hummed. “And remember, sister self, they did not part on the best of terms.”

Calliope’s jaw clenched at the distant memories of Dream… of the hateful and vile words they’d left between them after… The Crone touched her lips with a long slender finger, holding her hand to the younger. “Still. She did bear his cub. That boy-child who went to Hades for his lady love and died in Thrace, torn apart for his sacrilege.” She closed her eyes, desperate to try and keep the tears from spilling at the mention of her son's death. “He had a beautiful voice too. Orpheus.” 

No. No, there had to be someone else… “The Dream King will never help me. Not after what I did to him.” She shook her head. “He hates me for that, and I despise him. I would not accept his help.”

“Foolish child,” The Mother scolded, standing from the bed and looking at her with dark eyes.

The Crone folded her arms over the golden bedpost. “Oneiros is in no position to help you even if he wished it, which is unlikely.”

“Like you,” The Maiden began. “Your former husband has been ensnared by mortals. He’s immured beneath the ground. “

“Leaving this realm gripped by sleeping sickness,” The Mother shook her head.

The Crone cast her eyes down. “And a plague of Dreams and Nightmares wreaking havoc.”

“I am sorry, little one,” The Mother said, voice soft as the breeze that filled the room as she turned and walked back into the vision from whence she came.

“No,” Calliope begged.

The Crone sighed, moving to follow her other self. “Your prayers were wasted. There’s nothing we can do for you.”

“Please.”

“And nothing you can do but hope,” The Maiden finished sparing her a sorrowed glance.

Calliope moved forward, desperate to hold to the vision of home, the breeze, the trees, and the mountains. “Please don’t leave me here!” It was gone. The hideous red wallpaper and the darkness filled the room again as Calliope stared at the wall. “I beg of you,” she whispered to herself.

There was no hope then… nothing she could do but suffer in this hell. The Endless would not help her. Not even Dream could… if he’d ever even consider it. Wait… she clung to a small hope filled with mist and black fur. Daunt. She was as close to an Endless as one could be, and she was Calliope’s friend… or at least she’d tried to be. How to summon her, though? Her realm was fickle, and Calliope was far from forests, trees, or mist. 

Across the street, the shadowed shape of a dog sat, black with glowing eyes. Pressing her hand to the pane of glass, Calliope held its burning stare. “Please… Return to your master. Tell her that Calliope calls to her for aid. Please…” Her eyes burned with tears. “Please, Daunt. Hear me.”

The dog turned away from her, fading into a cloud of dark smoke and embers, and Calliope waited. Days passed, and with each passing one, the hope she’d held that Daunt would answer dwindled into a tiny sliver of a thing. If Daunt would not answer her call, then she indeed was doomed. 

In the dead of night, mist filled the floor of her room, whispering in a dead tongue as frost crept along the red walls. Calliope stood from the bed, eyes wide and heart pounding. “Daunt?” She whispered.

Standing in the darkness of the room, she appeared, a white veil shielding her from Calliope’s view. “A desperate plea you send on the backs of memory. A memory now answers you.”

She didn’t sound like herself, at least not the being she’d once known in fleeting moments of friendship. “Daunt… I would not have called if it had not been my only choice. I am trapped here. Bound by law to remain in this cage of broken promises and defilement.”

“He is caged as well. Locked deep beneath the ground in a cage of glass and magic.” Daunt looked around the room. “Yet it is your cage that feels smaller.”

“Will you help me?” Calliope pleaded, taking a step toward the figure in white. “Will you go to the man that holds me and… intimidate him into letting me go?”

Cold seeped into Calliope’s bones the closer she got to Daunt. “He is beyond my reach, as are you… as are you all.” 

Red began to bleed through her veil, and Calliope felt her heart drop. “Daunt…” She lifted the thin fabric as quickly as possible, gasping in horror at the sight of her friend. Blood pooled at her chest, around the gaping hole that tore her open and revealed her faintly beating heart within her rib cage. “What has happened to you?”

Frozen tears littered her cheeks as she gazed upon the muse with motionless eyes. “We are not as we are meant to be. Stuck… frozen in this shattered visage. He’s coming. Coming to make us whole again.” Her eyes cleared slightly, turning darker like the ones she’d known so long ago. “Wait for his return. He will help you too.”

The mist rose from the floor, engulfing Daunt in its icy chill. “Daunt, wait!” She collapsed to her knees. “Please don’t leave me alone…”

*

It had been almost two years since Daunt and The Forest had passed, yet the weight of her absence was just as heavy as it had been that night. Dream poured himself into his work while Lucienne tended to the white wolf, which grew more depressed by the day. He’d taken to her quickly, holding onto the small piece of Daunt that Lucienne radiated. The two remained in the library most days. The wolf stayed beside the white book laying on pages with his lady’s likeness painted on them and soaking in the chill that radiated off the book or the faint noises one could hear if they were quiet enough. 

Soon, however, he left the library in favor of Cain and Abel’s garden. He’d intended to seek out Gregory, only to find the gargoyle gone as well. There he clung to the stunted pale plant that Daunt had left behind and slept beside Gregory’s old house until Cain and Abel took it upon themselves to make him his own. Sirius lay and waited with the book tucked safely beneath his little roof. He did not wish to run through The Dreaming. Did not wish to make small talk with the Dream Lord subjects or even listen to Lucienne read. He wanted to go home… a place that no longer existed without her.

“I understand the pain of her loss,” Dream said as he stood outside the small dog house. He’d come to check on the creature every few days, intending to fulfill his promise to her whether the beast liked it or not. And he did not.

Sirius growled at him, the blue of his eye growing as cold as the winter of The Forest. “You know nothing of my pain, Dream Lord. The Forest was all I knew… all I had that was mine, ours, and now it is gone, and so is she. All because of you.”

He sighed, slowly rising to his feet and folding his hands behind his back. “She would not wish for you to suffer so.”

“She is dead. She does not wish for anything.”

“Daunt will return,” he assured the creature. “She promised she would.”

“And when will that be?” He spat. “Another year? Perhaps a hundred?” Sirius’ bitterness turned to sorrow as he set his head back to the pages depicting Daunt’s face. “Leave me to rot. At least then, she and I will be together again.”

He could do little but grant the wolf's wish. Abel watched him closely and sighed, holding onto Goldie a little tighter. “It was good of you to try, my lord.”

Cain scoffed. “Leave the beast be. Who are we to dictate what it chooses to do with its life?”

“Daunt charged me with his care,” Dream told the brothers. “I will not have him wither away in my realm. Do what you can for him. Hopefully, with time he will find some measure of peace here.”

The two bowed their heads. “Of course, Lord Morpheus.”

“We’ll do all we can, my lord.”

As he walked back toward his palace, a voice filled the air, one he’d not heard for centuries… one he’d never thought he’d hear again. “I call to you, Oneiros, that you may hear me and come to my aid when I say your name out loud.”

“Calliope?” he whispered. 

The room was dark when Dream answered her call. The moonlight cast the red walls in a soft glow that only seemed to amplify the anguish and hopelessness that had consumed the room and the Muse trapped within it. She was more beautiful than he remembered, her face bathed in the soft silver glow, bringing a shine to her long brown hair and pale silk gown.

“You came.” She uttered, turning her head with absolute disbelief written on her face. She was so graceful and kind-toned, even trapped in the cage this Richard Madoc had locked her in. It was a stark contrast to how he’d last seen her.

Dream took a half step forward, the memory of Daunt’s voice whispering the same thing to him echoed around him as he replied, “You called.”

“They told me you had been imprisoned, just like me,” she said, moving away from the window to step closer. Her eyes never left his face as though she believed he'd leave her here if she looked away now.

“Not like you,” Dream said, his voice strained with pain. “My suffering was nothing compared to yours.”

“Don’t say that. Comparing our suffering only compounds it.” She insisted. Her kindness made Dream want to smile… made him want to embrace her. “It pained me to hear of your misfortune. I’m glad that you are free.”

A look passed over her face, sorrow and something else, as she looked at the locked door. “I know you do not hold the power to free me, only he can do that, but perhaps you might… inspire him to let me go?”

“I will do all that… and more.” The echoes of his darkness radiated through the room.

Calliope sighed. “Dream-”

“He must be punished.”

“How? What punishment could be enough?” She demanded, voice quivering. “Even his death would not bring back what he has taken from me. He’s nothing. He’s just a man.”

Dream’s anger only grew, engulfing even the space in shadows. “I cannot allow him to go free.”

“Why?” Because I was once yours?”

“Because he hurt you.” He drew in a deep breath, his eyes filled with glistening, repressed tears. His anger ebbed, and the painful echoes of their past washed over him like a cloud of mist. “The last time I saw you, you said you would never speak to me again.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I… I did not know where else to turn.”

“You misunderstand me. When I heard you call to me, even after all this time… I was relieved… hopeful…” He cut himself off. “Let me help you. Please. I owe you that much.”

“What will you do to him?”

The darkness in Morpheus’ eyes was enough to answer Calliope’s question. Richard Madoc would pay for his crimes against her. Dream would ensure it. He didn’t wait. When Richard Madoc returned home that morning, Dream was sitting at his desk, back straight and hands in his lap, waiting in a dark and cold rage. The talentless, spineless mortal was truly nothing. Their eyes met as he pulled the bag from his shoulder and dropped it. “What the f… Who the fuck are you? Get out of my house.”

“Be quiet.” He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t scream or shout, only spoke softly, which was enough not only to send a wave of power through Richard Maddoc but to still his lying tongue entirely. “You’re keeping a woman here against her will. I’ve come to request that you set her free.”

He scoffed, his body moving into a forced casual position. “Are you out of your mind? There’s no woman here. I’m calling the police. Do you know who I am?”

Dream nearly chuckled at the gall the mortal had. “I know precisely who and what you are, Richard Madoc.”

“Are you going to call the police?” He took great pleasure in watching the man shift from forced relaxation to pure fear.

“No, I will not call any human agency. Just let her go.”

Shaking his head, fear nearly spilled from his eyes as he spoke again, rambling words that Dream had no use for, “You don’t understand. I need her. If I didn’t have her, I wouldn’t be able to write, I wouldn’t have ideas. Look, I-I have money!”

“Hold your tongue.” He stood from the chair, slowly, deliberately dragging the movement out to prolong the horror in Richard Madocs eyes. “She has been held captive for more than sixty years. Demeaned, abused, defiled. And you will not set her free because you need ideas? Well… If it’s ideas you want, then you shall have them in abundance.”

The madness didn’t take long to set in the mortal's simple mind. Dream watched with a smile from across the steps of the lecture room. Richard focused on him, ideas spewing from his mouth like an uncontrollable river. Random and never-ending. It wouldn’t be long now.

Dream and Calliope stood in Richard Madoc's living room and watched the girl he’d sent to unlock the door leave the house. The simple gown she’d worn had turned into a long flowy dress, and her hair was now pulled back into an elegant crown of curls as she watched the front door close. She looked like herself again, the soft and tender-hearted muse he’d fallen in love with so long ago.

“It is over.” She said, voice hoarse with suppressed tears as she turned to Dream. “Thank you.”

“I merely answered your call. What will you do now?”

“I think what I must do is to try to make sure that this never happens to anyone else ever again,” she said, moving around the space almost nervously.

“How?”

“I do not know. By inspiring humanity to want better for themselves and each other. By rewriting the laws by which I was held. Laws that were written long ago and which my sisters and I had no say in.”

Dream couldn’t help the swell of pride that made his chest tighten and her determination and spirit. “I shall do the same in my realm.”

“You have changed, Oneiros. In the old days, you would have left me here to rot without turning a hair.” She shook her head. “It is one of the reasons why I called upon Daunt before you…”

His breath stuttered. “You called Daunt?”

Calliope nodded, a sad look causing her face to crease. “Yes. She answered, but she was… different. Ill.” Turning, she looked up at him and sighed. “You already know this, though, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he answered. “I was there when she…”

“She is dead then?”

“No. Just gone.”

With a nod, she smiled. “She will return. Of this, I have no doubt.”

Dream could only cling to that hope as well as he nodded, “Yes, she will.”

“Do you still hate me… for leaving you? For blaming you for what happened?” She whispered -

“No.” The mournful nature of his voice made her look back up at him. “I’ve learned much in recent times, and… No matter. I do not hate you.”

“I think you should release the mortal now. He has set me free. And without forgiveness, wounds will never heal.”

“You would forgive him for what he’s done?” Dream asked, curious more than upset.

“I will not forgive what he has done, but I must forgive the man. Not for him. For me. Will you free him?”

He nodded. “If that is what you wish, it shall be done.”

As the two walked toward the door, she paused as he led Calliope to her freedom. “May I visit you in the Dream Realm sometime?” She asked, looking away from him. “So that we may finally talk about our son… and grieve him properly?”

Orpheus… Their son haunted him still. Perhaps his death would always haunt him. “One day, perhaps, but…”

“I understand.” She tilted her head with a kind smile. “Daunt told me to wait for you. I am glad she was right.”

Tears swelled in his eyes at the mention of her… at the newfound realization that even as she lay weak and dying, Daunt never stopped believing in him. “She was wise even at her lowest point.”

“You’ve fallen in love with her,” Calliope stated.

“I-”

She shook her head, “Do not deny it. I am gladdened that you have found someone to fill the void left behind by so many others. The two of you were cut from similar cloth… I often wondered what kind of pair you’d make.”

Dream only wished they could have found out. “It was unexpected…”

“The best loves are. Thank you, Oneiros. I hope she returns to you quickly. And I… I will not forget this.” She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, and with a soft sigh, she pressed her forehead to his cheek. “Fare you well. Fortune be with you.”

“Goodbye, Calliope,” he said as she pulled away. The love he’d felt for her all those centuries ago lingered. It always would beneath the hatred and vile sting of past words. He hoped they could find some middle ground, some way to move toward something he now realized he always craved a friend. Hob Gadling was his first; perhaps Calliope could be another.

*

Sirius lay in the tiny house the brothers had built him, head resting upon the pages of the white book that smelt of mist and pine and moss. The pages held small paintings of her within them. Home. He whined softly; the empty space within him only grew as the years passed so far from home. Nothing this dream world could offer him would ever fill that space. It was reserved for home, for his lady. And while his time here hadn't been unpleasant, it wasn't the same… It wasn't where he wanted to be. Nowhere in this plain or any of the others would rid him of this pain.

A howl filled the air, echoing off the walls of his little hut and bringing his ears up. Sirius listened closer this time as more howls drifted on a mist-filled breeze to him. His heart pounded as he stood and began following the mist deep into the sparse trees that hid Cain and Abel’s homes from view. The ground shifted beneath his paws, green filling the spaces of mulch and autumn leaves until it was all he could see. Rich brown trunks filled every direction, and emerald leaves rustled in the mist as they moved, curling around him and washing through his hair to guide him forward.

Home.

Sirius saw silver wisps spring to life in the woods around him as he ran through the moss and the trees. Faint howls filled the empty air as wolves of mist, and glowing eyes of all colors ran beside him. He felt a kinship spark in his chest as each fell into step beside him.

The first had green eyes that matched the trees and the moss. She howled softly before weaving between the trunks and leaping into him, mist falling from his shoulders as the wolf faded away. Others followed after that until a pair of purple eyes caught his attention. This wolf looked like she was smiling as she let out a chuckling howl and dipped behind him, mist curling around his backside and swirling around for a moment. A few more merged until yellow eyes met his. He howled loudly, the sound shaking the blades of grass between them as he jumped high, fading to mist over Sirius’ head and forcing him to stop to shake it out of his eyes.

Up ahead, the mist settled, curling and making shapes in the glen, and there, through the mist, in a bed of white feathers and sparkling silver leaves was her… his lady. The simple white dress swayed as the heavier mist began to roll in through the trees. Sirius' paws dug deeper into the ground as a low whine echoed through the trees as his voice carried to the meadow where she and The Great Tree stood. "My lady…"

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden

Chapter 2: No One Should Be Alone

Part 1 | Part 3

TW: Desire is an asshole, there's not a lot of Dream x Daunt interaction in this part, but it's full of story building so I hope y'all still enjoy it! 🥰

You walked the long path, hands tucked neatly into your sides to avoid brushing up against the the tall hedges on either side of you. Destiny and his garden of forking ways was perhaps your least favorite place to be. The paths led into every unknown location one could imagine and they were quite easy to get lost in, given that their maker rarely came to fetch you even when you'd been summoned. Still, you trusted your feet and followed the path until it led to the courtyard and tall statues of the Endless. You didn't look at them, didn't need to as they all sat around Destiny's long table with a variety of food spread before them. Fuck.

You stopped at the bottom of the stairs, fully intending to turn around and flee before they saw you, but Destiny of course, beat you to it. He stood from his seat, setting a hand on his book, the chain scraping against the table. His misted over eyes met yours as he spoke, "Daunt. Please, join us."

Everyone's heads turned to you, eyes watching, some with kindness and others with nothing. You only moved up the stairs and stopped again, folding your hands behind your back. "Why am I here, Destiny?"

He gestured to the table. "To sit. To eat."

Desire's cackle made your jaw clench together as they took a long drink of their cup. "Are we really going to invite the Mistake to sit?"

Death was the one to send Desire a glare. "Desire!"

They merely shrugged, putting their feet up on the table. "Everyone's thinking it. Not a goddess, not an Endless. Just a cosmic whoopsie."

Your hands tightened behind your back, but your eyes never left Destiny's. "Why am I really here?"

"Because it is so."

Turning on your heel you moved to leave, but the paths ahead were blocked by thick hedges. Heavy footsteps echoed to you and a rough hand extended to take one of yours. Red hair met your gaze as Destruction bent his head down to press a kiss to the back of your hand. His warm eyes met yours, followed by his bright smile. "Lady Daunt. It's good to see you again."

"Destruction," you said, turning toward him. "It's been a while."

"Come. Sit with us, please."

"I'm not an Endless." You reminded him, loud enough that Destiny could certainly hear you as he retook his seat.

Destruction shrugged. "We don't particularly care for the semantics."

A chair materialized next to Dream, who'd barely looked at you for longer than a second. Destruction retook his chair beside Delirium who pouted. "I wanted to sit next to Daunt! She smells like rain and woods."

You moved slowly, taking hold of the back of the chair and dragging it roughly across the stone. The grating noise made everyone wince as you moved it further down the table, forcing it to grow longer to accommodate you, far from everyone else. You took your seat and folded your hands in your lap, not bothering to look at anyone or say anything. If Destiny was going to force you to sit here you'd do just that and then you would leave, with plans to ignore all future calls from him.

The others went on as usual, Desire ruffled Dreams feathers and Death and Destruction tried their best to keep the peace. Destiny was silent, occasionally flipping through his book. Delirium and Despair were polar opposites. Delirium talked and laughed while Despair sat close to her twin and said very little. It was all rather textbook of the odd family, so when Desire moved to stand in front of you, leaning down across the table so you were certain to see their wide grin you were concerned.

Their golden eyes flared as they spoke, "I know a little secret."

"Good for you, we all know how much you enjoy those."

"It's about you, little Mistake," they purred. "I finally put my finger on that pesky desire of yours."

You froze, forcing your breaths to remain even as you stared them down. "It took you a while."

Desire's hair momentarily shifted to black, before returning to normal. "It was so simple too! Far more than I was expecting." They faked a frown. "It's almost... sad how pathetic it was in the end."

"That's enough." It was Dream that spoke, a shock to everyone, you included.

"All you ever desired was an end to your loneliness," Desire continued in spite of their brothers words. Shame and rage filled your lungs but you refused to look away. "It would seem that everyone else sees you just as we do. A Mistake. A whoopsie. A burden."

You ground your teeth together, mist curling around your legs as you slowly stood from your chair, looking at Destiny with a glare. "Is your book satisfied yet?"

He didn't look up from his book, nor did he sound like he particularly cared as he answered, "Yes."

You said nothing else as you turned and left through the first open path that you saw. You could hear the Endless siblings arguing in the distance but you didn't slow, not until you were once again surrounded by the dark emerald of your trees and the cold kiss of your mist, not until you were home again. You stopped walking, bracing yourself against a nearby tree and closing your eyes as tightly as you could to stop the tears from spilling over.

*

"Sorry to keep you waiting out here, I wasn't expecting you." Destruction led you inside his large estate within his realm.

"I didn't mind," you assured him, looking closely at the multitude of failed artwork. "These are new."

He laughed. "New, but just as bad as the others."

You shook your head. "I don't think they're that bad."

"You don't have to lie to him," the gruff voice of Destructions trusty companion, insisted as the shaggy dog trotted toward you. "He knows they're shit."

Barnabas stood on his hind legs and let his paws settle on your shoulders as he licked your cheek and wagged his tail. "I'm trying to be nice."

The dog snorted. "Think they call that pity in the human world."

Destruction shoved the dog off you and rolled his eyes. "Ignore him, he's in a bad mood today."

"Ugh, you smell like Dream. All sandy and bleh." Barnabas grumbled as he walked to his soft cushion bed and settled down, chewing on a bone. "You been spending more time in that Dreaming of his?"

"Some." You said, sitting in a chair at a small table with a chess board on top. Your eyes looked at the pieces, trying to refamiliarize yourself with the game the two of you had stopped. "Though I'm not allowed past his fancy gate."

"Ohhh, he giving you the cold shoulder now?"

"Has he ever given me the warm shoulder before?"

Destruction sat across from you and sighed. "Dream is stubborn and can be rather self important. I'm sure he doesn't mean it to seem cruel." You and Barnabas looked at Destruction and tilted your heads. "Okay, maybe it's meant to be a bit cruel. Dream is..."

"An ass," you offered.

"A twat," Barnabas added.

"Self obsessed."

"A complete know it all."

"A show off."

"Moody."

"Looks like a stick got shoved a bit too far up his ass."

You looked at Barnabas with a smile. "Ooohhh, good one."

The dog bowed his head. "Why thank you!"

Destruction rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Yes, he can be all of those things. But he cares. Far more than I think either of you give him credit for."

"I'll believe that when I see it," you mumbled.

"How are things in The Forest?" your friend tentatively asked.

Your playful demeanor shifted as you cleared your throat. "Fine."

"Daunt, you don't have to lie to me."

"It is how it always is, Destruction. Trees and mist and half dead flowers. There's nothing more to talk about."

He gestured around him. "I think I can understand that."

You shook your head, eyes focusing on the homey features that he'd added to his place, head turning to look down at Barnabas with a sad smile. "Here is different. You have things that are yours, things you've made... even if they are garbage... you have a companion to pass the time with."

"Daunt..."

Breathing out a hot breath you refocused on the board. "Enough chit chat. Where were we last time?"

For a moment it looked like Destruction wasn't going to let it go that easily, but when you looked up at him with a silent plead in your eyes he relaxed his shoulders and played along. "I believe I was kicking your ass at chess."

You smiled brightly. "Ahh yes, you've fallen into my trap then!"

Destruction hummed, placing his hands under his chin. "Just make your move, Daunty."

*

It wasn't often that Dream had his siblings visit his realm, but he always found himself anxious when they did. He made certain everything was in the best of shape and that all of his subjects were on their best behavior. With Lucienne at his side he welcomed Destruction with a tense nod. "Brother, it's a surprise to have you visit."

Destruction smiled and clapped him roughly on the shoulder. "How's the past few years been treating you?"

His dog sniffed around and openly gagged. "Yeah, how's all that sand doing?"

"All has been well," he replied simply, but in the quiet of his own mind he questioned why his brother was here at all.

Destruction looked at Lucienne and smiled brightly. "Lucienne, always a pleasure to see you!"

"You as well, my lord."

"What do you want?" Dream finally said.

Destruction chuckled. "Always straight to the point huh?" Dream's silence spoke the words he did not, and showcased his growing annoyance clear as day. "I need a favor."

"It has been long since you asked for a favor," Dream noted. "What do you need of me?"

"A rock."

"A... Rock?"

"A fancy one," Destruction clarified. "God, I forgot what you called them last time. One of the ones that makes those animals you showed me a while ago."

"A shifting stone?" Dream's eyes narrowed and his brows pinched together. "Why would you need such a thing?"

Destruction shrugged, a moment of rare silence. "I just do... for stuff... reasons... Can you give me one or not?"

Dream hummed quietly, looking discreetly to his librarian before nodding. "I can. Though you know the animals that come of these stones are not normal pets. They have thoughts and wants of their own, sentient beings to be treated with respect."

"I know," he said. "I have no intentions to harm them, if that's your concern."

With another, less stiff, nod Dream pulled his hand through the air, opening his palm to his brother to reveal a small shimmering green stone. "Take care of it."

Destruction took it gently, holding it with a smile and reverence that put Dreams mind at ease. "Thank you, brother."

And just as quickly as he came, Destruction was gone once again, leaving Dream in the peaceful quiet of his realm. For a while he wondered what his brother would do with another pet, but the thoughts faded quickly as he returned to his duties.

The silence of The Forest was all but consuming as you sat and tended to your wilting garden, even knowing it was in vain. Nothing would bloom here... not a flower or new plaid of grass... nothing would be wrought from your fingertips. And nothing would be your legacy. A vast endless plain of plants and trees uninspired to grow further. Stuck. Frozen. Forever daunted into being less than they could.

Barnabas surprised you with a wet lick to the cheek. You giggled and wiped it off with your sleeve. "Barnabas? What are you doing here?"

"The big fella brought me," he turned his head to the path as Destruction stepped over the trees roots with a smile.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, waving your hand to help clear his path. "I could have made the walk much easier for you."

Destruction waved off your concern and held his hand out. "I have something for you."

You looked at him with narrow eyes. "What's the occasion?"

"There isn't one. Just open your hand."

Following his instruction you flattened your palm to him, and he dropped a shimmering green stone into it. You could feel power and life swirling inside it, but couldn't place exactly what it was or who made it. "What's this?"

"A very fancy rock," he answered. "It'll take the shape of whatever animal you want it to."

"Why?"

Destruction gave Barnabas a pat on the head. "I understand what it feels like to be alone. The others... they don't really get that, not anymore at least. Death has the humans. Desire has themselves and Despair and vice versa. Delirium has, well everyone, anyone. And Dream has his realm, his people. You and I are the odd men out. The two loneliest of the Endless."

"I'm not an Endless."

"Not the point. I just... I want you to have a companion, you know, for when I can't be around."

You looked up at him with a smile. "Planning on going somewhere?"

Destruction's usually loose smile was stiff as he shook his head and looked away from your face. "No, but still. Go on, give it a try."

It felt a bit foolish, staring down at a rock and waiting for some kind of animal to burst out of it. But, you closed your eyes and thought of nothing in particular at first, clearing your mind to let the stone speak to you... yeah this was defiantly foolish. Warmth radiated from your palm and nearly burnt you as you pulled you hands back and let the stone drop to the ground. You worried it would break, but before it hit the ground a black wolf landed on its feet and curiously sniffed the air before looking up at you.

Emerald eyes glistened up as the wolf sat at your feet. A light but lethal feminine voice spoke, "Are you the one that has summoned me here?"

"Um," you stuttered. "Yes... I suppose I am."

The wolf bowed it's head. "Then I shall remain at your side."

You looked up at Destruction who merely shrugged. "You don't have to, if it's not what you want."

The eyes narrowed. "Want?"

"Yeah, want. If there's something else you'd rather do, or somewhere else you'd rather be you can always go." You looked around and chuckled nervously. "There's not exactly much to do here."

The wolf examined the surrounding woods and made a noise. "You are alone here?"

"Yes."

"Then I shall stay," she insisted. "None should be alone."

You smiled, sitting down onto the mossy ground. "What should I call you then?"

"I have no name, should you wish to gift me one."

"How about Fern?" You suggest, playing with the stunted ferns planted at your sides.

The wolf looked at the plant with wide, curious eyes. "Fern." she repeated. "I quite like the sound of it."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Fern. I'm Daunt."

*

1598

The old tavern was full of voices and noise that made it difficult to hear the one calling out to you. It was rare that humans required a meeting in their own world, but that usually meant their ideas were far too powerful for you to suppress once they'd met them in dreams. So, here you were, lost in the sea of bodies and odd smells, your eyes quietly scanning to find the one you sought out. They lingered on a man sitting at a long table, dressed in fine clothes with his hair done well and his eyes locked onto the door. Not him, you thought moving along. Why is this mortal so difficult to find?

Dream walked into the tavern dressed accordingly, which to him meant better than everyone else, Hob Gadling sat across the crowded tavern and stood once he saw him. "My friend! Sit down. Got in a couple of bottles of good wine for us. Already made a start on 'em."

"Hello Hob," he said as he slid into the open seat.

Hob made a face. "Hob... Faith, that takes me back some few years, It's Sir Robert Gadling now, old stranger."

Dream's brow arched as he watched the man bow dramatically. "You've had good fortune, I take it."

"The gods have smiled on me as they smile on all England where no man is slave or bondsman. Venison pasty?" Hob asked, gesturing to the large plate of pastries. Dream regarded him with nothing more than a pointed look. "No? They're good." He bit into one, groaning with a smile. "Let's see. Last we spoke, I was working with Billy Caxton. Made some gold from that. Put it to work in Henry Tudor's shipyards. I made a small pile. Then I went north for a year or so, came back as my son. Done that twice now."

He watched Hob Gadling hold a pitcher out without even regarding the woman he addressed, "Girl, more wine. When fat Henry had gone for the monasteries, I bought my estates, and a healthy gift of gold to the Crown saw to... a knighthood." He laughed, eyes wide with pride. "That's not all! Here. My fair Eleanor and little Robyn. My first born son in over 200 years on this Earth, that I know of."

Dreams lips twitched into a momentary smile as he looked down at the portrait. Finally, something of substance that might finally make this mortal wish for death. Hob looked at the picture fondly. "It's funny. This is what I always dreamed heaven would be like, way back. It's safe to walk the streets. Enough food. Good wine. Life is so rich."

"God's wounds!" Dream's head turned to the voice. "If only I could write like you!"

Your head snapped to the side, where a thin man with a glistening earring had stood up. "In... In Faustus, when you wrote, "To God? He loves thee not. The God thou servest is thine own appetite, wherein is fixed to the love of Beelzebub. To him, I'll build a alter in the church and offer up lukewarm blood of new-born babes.""

The tavern erupted into cheers as you smiled at the familiar face. Will. I should have known. You made your way through the crowd, towards his dimly lit table where he spoke with his friend of his deepest wishes to be as successful as he was. "Hello, Will."

He turned his head, bright eyes looking up at you with a fading smile. "Do I... know you?"

"In a sense," you said as he stood to get a better look at your face. "That was quite a performance."

He chuckled bashfully. "Oh, thank you... It was nothing."

"No, it was beautiful."

"One day I hope to be able to preform my own works before the mases."

You smiled, sadly and nodded. "I know. Your ideas are beautiful. I've not seen anything like them."

His eyes narrowed as he tilted his head to the side, looking at you with a glint of recognition. "I've seen you before... In my dreams. You... You stop them, the ideas why?"

"I don't know," you admitted.

"Will I ever be a great playwrite?"

You took hold of his hand. "Keep trying, Will. And maybe one day those brilliant ideas of yours will be what people preform in old taverns." With a sigh you pressed your lips to his cheek, letting the fog roll over his mind and erase your presence entirely. "For now, it's time to forget."

Dream had inquired about the little man with big dreams, but truly he'd stopped listening at the sight of white hair moving through the crowd. Daunt. She spoke with the man, this Will Shaxberd, gracing him with small smiles and light touches. When her lips pressed to the mans cheek Dream felt his hands clench together at the simple yet intimate gesture. He didn't understand how no one else seemed to take note of her, the way her light white dress flowed as she moved, the sight of her soft skin glowing beneath the firelight, the lightness in her voice... Everyone should have been looking at her. Yet, Dream was glad he was the only one that seemed to be. Daunt departed and he found himself rising, moving toward this Will. If she was here, giving him her attention in the Waking World and not dreams then his ideas must have some kind of merit.

It felt better to be back in dreams, here at least you could go mostly unnoticed without resorting to shielding yourself. You watched the poor dreamer look through the woods with wide and desperate eyes, in search of the path to their beloved ideas. This dream felt a bit too close to home, as you remembered when you'd first found yourself in The Forest. Lost and afraid, with none to call to for help. A black figure settled in beside you, Dream's power washing over you like a tidal wave and causing you to tense. "I've not seen you in a while."

You didn't look at him. "Last I remember, I was no longer worthy of an audience with the great King of Dreams."

"Last I remember, you were throwing me out of your realm." He mused.

"Perhaps you deserved it." You suggested.

"Perhaps." You turned your head to him at last, eyes wide and unbelieving as his words settled around you. Dream never admitted he was wrong, never even came close to it. Your eyes drifted down his tall figure, heat washing through you at the sight of his form fitting leather attire, the dream stone ruby glimmering in the light. You looked back up to his face, his hair was longer, slicked back and those eyes... his damn eyes watched you with light amusement. "Or perhaps you were acting brashly."

There it was. You rolled your eyes and turned your head away, shoving the odd feelings deep into your gut. "What do you want?"

"Must I want something?"

"Don't you always?" You question. "I believe your favorite demand is 'leave my dreamers alone' or something of the sort."

He nodded, folding his hands behind his back. "I do want that, but it seems unlikely you'll listen."

Listen? As if this were your choice. "I've little say in the matter."

"So you've said."

"Do you think I'm lying?"

"It would not be against your nature, would it?"

A low growl echoed from within the fog, drawing both of our eyes to the emerald eyes and the black wolf that they belonged to. "Do you wish his throat torn open, Lady Daunt?"

"No, Fern, unfortunately that will not be necessary." You turned, gesturing the creature to follow. "We were just leaving."

Dream's hand grabbed your wrist quickly. "Where did you get this beast?"

You pulled it free of his grasp. "She was a gift from your brother if you must know." The look in his eyes was different than usual, but you ignored it and shrugged your shoulder. "On to the next, I suppose."

The next dream was darker, not a dream at all but rather a nightmare. You only took a step or two forward before you fell into a strangers chest, the soft color of his suit faded beneath your touch. His hands steadied you as you looked up to find two extra rows of teeth staring down at you. He was one of Dreams Nightmares. "Forgive me, Nightmare, things like this tend to happen when I touch some of Dreams creations."

He merely smiled. "It's no problem. Besides, I kinda like the white, don't you?"

"It certainly brings out your eyes," you remark with a smile.

"Why thank you, kind lady. You're not like him, Dream that is, are you?"

"No," you replied quickly. "I'm quite literally the opposite."

His smile grew wider. "You got a name?"

"Daunt."

The nightmare tipped his hat to you, bowing with the gesture. "A pleasure."

"And do you have a name?"

"They call me The Corinthian."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Corinthian," you said holding your hand out to him.

He took it and gave it a firm shake. "Believe me, the pleasure is all mine."

[thepaintedlady00]

Complete Chapter Index:

Taglist

Ask

No One Should Be Alone

A Dream of Starlight

Dance of the Lady and the King

Desire and Loss

Cursed Touch

Visions In White

The Mist Waits

The Last Star

Be Still, My Bleeding Heart

Memory

The Endless and The Forest Queen

An Eye For An Eye

Hell Hath No Fury

Forget Me Not

Character Spotlights:

Daunt Collage

Chapter 3 - Daunts Gown

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